#sting spy
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my heart hurts for sylvia :(
but also im happy weâre getting to learn more about her and her tragic past.
but also also this just solidifies the fact that sylvia would never try to separate loid from his found family. iâve seen a lot of people theorize that maybe silvia has bad intentions or is actually a bad person, etc. but i genuinely donât think so. she cares about twilight. and, because she cares about him, she would never want him to feel the pain she felt when losing her family. if twilight wanted to retire from being a spy in order to be a stay-at-home dad and just live the rest of his life in domestic bliss, i donât think she would have any objections.
she knows what itâs like to have loved and lost. she wouldnât want the same fate for him.
#spy x family#spy x family manga#spy x family manga spoilers#loid forger#sylvia sherwood#anya forger#yor forger#i love when the manga gets serious#so i really loved this chapter#it was cute but with justtt enough there to make your heart sting
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When your Character...
Gets into: A Fight â ...Another Fight â ...Yet Another Fight
Hates Someone â Kisses Someone â Falls in Love
Calls Someone they Love â Dies / Cheats Death â Drowns
is...
A Ballerina â A Child â Interacting with a Child â A Cheerleader
A Cowboy â A Genius â A Lawyer â A Pirate â A Spy
A Wheelchair User â A Zombie â Beautiful â Dangerous â Drunk
Funny â In a Coma â In a Secret Society â Injured â Shy
needs...
A Magical Item â An Aphrodisiac â A Fictional Poison
A Coping Strategy â A Drink â A Medicinal Herb â A Mentor
Money â A Persuasion Tactic â A Quirk â To be Killed Off
To Become Likable â To Clean a Wound â To Self-Reflect
To Find the Right Word, but Can't â To Say No â To Swear
loves...
Astronomy â Baking â Cooking â Cocktails â Food â Oils
Dancing â Fashion â Gems â Herbal Remedies â Honey
Mushrooms â Mythology â Numbers â Perfumes
Roses â Sweets â To Argue â To Insult â To Kiss
To Make False Claims â Wine â Wine-Tasting â Yoga
has/experiences...
Allergies â Amnesia â Bereavement â Bites & Stings
Bruises â Caffeine â CO Poisoning â Color Blindness
Facial Hair â Fainting â Fevers â Food Allergies
Food Poisoning â Fractures â Frostbite â Hypothermia
Injuries â Jet Lag â Kidnapping â Manipulation â Mutism
Pain â Paranoia â Poisoning â More Pain & Violence
Scars â Trauma â Viruses â Wounds
[these are just quick references. more research may be needed to write your story...]
Writing Resources PDFs
#requested#writing reference#character development#writeblr#dark academia#spilled ink#writing prompts#writing inspiration#writing ideas#creative writing#compilation#fiction#light academia#literature#writers on tumblr#writing prompt#poets on tumblr#writing tips#writing advice#writing resources#updated: december 2024
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Cake or Fake - G.S.
Synopsis. The only birthday gift your brotherâs best friend wants? You. And not just for fake-datingâŠ
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, brotherâs best friend! Gojo, annoyances to lovers, fake dating, PINING, jealousy (Gojoâs side), past Sukuna x Reader, matĂng presses, vĂrgĂnity loss (Gojo), oraI (fem rec.), PĂSSYDRĂNK GOJO, size kĂnk, cervĂx kĂssing, heâs such a tease, cĂșmplay, p talking, making him WHĂMPER, spĂtting, pĂĄnty-steaIing, slight chokĂng, reader is Getoâs sister, matchmaking, pet names, swĂ©aring.
Word count. 11.1k
A/N. In honor of my hubbyâs birthday!!
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âWait, whoâs coming to your party?â
âItâs not just a âpartyâ, itâs my surprise party-âÂ
âSatoru, itâs not a surprise party if youâre the one organizing the surp-â Youâre cutting yourself off with a heaving sigh, massaging your throbbing temples. âAnyway- continue.â
Growing up, you didnât suffer through years of endless torment from Gojo Satoru to hope that heâd ever use logic. No, of course not.Â
Instead, heâs brandishing the oversized birthday banner heâd bought himself, softly smacking the top of your head. âBesides- itâs not like everyoneâs going to be there. Just our group, Nanamiâs troupe, some Kyoto people, I invited Yaga but he kicked me out of his office- oh- and Sukuna.â
Ah, there it was.Â
The one person you didnât want to see just as much as you didnât want to be roped into your brotherâs best friendâs âsurpriseâ party planning for his own birthday. But, alas, here you were.Â
And here tumbled the next few words that would likely haunt you for the rest of your life.Â
âI need you to date me.â
âOh? Okay.â
âListen I know itâs stupid and I know-â WaitâŠwhat? Cutting yourself off with a choked-up wheeze- for the first time since heâd barged into your life, Gojo had truly and absolutely stumped you. âWait- you agreed?â
Heâs shrugging one broad deltoid, tinted glasses that youâd bought for his last birthday sliding down that high nose bridge of his. And the grin youâre graced with is blinding. âWell, I knew it was about time before you fell for my charms~â Before one strong arm swings its way around your shoulders, manhandling you against the thin black t-shirt wrapped around his sculpted body. He wiggles his cloudy brows, âWhat was it- the hair? The eyes? The body? Yâknow Iâve been hitting the gym more-â
âGojo Satoru.â youâre gritting out through tight lips. âI need you to date me- just for one night.â
âSo it was the body-â heâs gasping dramatically, beefy arms frantically wrapping around your middle. You could feel the curves of his washboard abs against your palm. Purring voice pitching up into what almost sounded like a whine, âAt least take me out to dinner firstâ! To think that you just want me for a one night stand-â
In a split-second, your palms slap over his nonsensical mouth - hard enough that you almost spy a stinging stamp of red on his skin.Â
And yet, Gojo doesnât complain. Doesnât display anything but a brazen gleam in his gaze that practically screamed out kinky~!Â
âShut- up- my brotherâs in the next room.â Youâre hissing, eyes flickering behind Gojoâs toned figure and towards the kitchen door for any looming sign of Geto. âI need you to date me-â Your digits tighten over his mouth as soon as you feel it moving to prattle away once more. â-just for tonight- no, not as a one night stand, put that banner down- We just need to ah- pretend?â
Damn, it sounds more of a garbage idea out loud - and you didnât even know that was possible.Â
At the question in his summer blue eyes, your hopefully explanatory words spill out a mile a minute. âS-so Sukuna has been getting around since our little break-up a few months ago- if you can even call it thatâŠâ
Ah, melding into such a big group with your brotherâs friends and your own in university had always meant that there would be a few bumps along the way.Â
From explaining to an overeager Haibara that no, you and Gojo were definitely not dating, to making sure that your brother and his best friend didnât make Nanami suffer from an aneurysm too early in life, to perhaps the biggest of them all - your fiery, yet short-lived fling with Ryomen Sukuna.Â
The most dramatic bump, according to Shoko.
Sukuna wasnât a close friend, but itâd taken work to get over the worst of the awkwardness after heâd dumped you without a momentâs notice. And you werenât exactly dreaming up a wedding with himâŠsort of, but you certainly did skip out on a few invitations to hang out if you knew that heâd show his smug face.
And right now it left you ironically wishing youâd heeded Gojoâs words when heâd first warned you that Sukuna âwasnât right for you.âÂ
Though, you think part of it came from his own unexplainable love-hate animosity with the man.
â-but Iâve still been painfully single since the last time I saw him, and you know how he is. I canât face him like this.â You, in particular, knew too well. âYou two still have that weird rivalry thing going on, right? So help me show him up just for tonight- then later we say it fizzled out and everything goes back to normal. Itâs a win-win really if- eugh!â
You snatch your hand back as far as it would go the very second you feel the sodden drag of something against your palm. Staring in horror at your clammy skinâŠhe licked you.
And Gojo almost winces at the loss of your touch - he almost drags your hand back himself.Â
But oh, it was worth it just to see the way your gorgeous features get scrunched up into an even more gorgeous glare - one that said if looks could kill, then heâd already be six feet under and having his surprise party thrown on his grave already.Â
Truly the way to a manâs heart, he swoons internally.Â
âFine.â
And when has that particular tone from Gojo ever boded well for you?
âFine?â
You find yourself gulping at the slight bob of his smooth Adamâs apple, the flex of his back muscles when he hunches downwards to crowd your space. Mere inches away. Somehow, he seemed too close and too far away at the same time. Too intoxicating with his cold, pinewood scent.
âFine Iâll let you- heh, use me for my body.â Tone intentionally dipping into a low, rumbling territory. Gojoâs batting his long snowy lashes in a way youâd almost deem innocent - if it wasnât for the next few words that tumble urgently from his mouth. â-only if you give me something back. A kiss.â
You jolt, âWhat?â
âIâm the birthday boy, and I say-â
Cutting him off with a thoroughly practiced scoff, âWell, I have common sense. And I say I should just ask Nanami instead-â
âIs the common sense in my five-star getaway cabin with us right now?â
âOkay! You two!â Getoâs roughened hands clap down on your shoulders with a little more force than necessary. His voice is patient - used to this. âPlease try not to make this a funeral before we can make it a birthday party, Satoruâs decorations are non-refundable.â
Oh, shit.
How long had he been standing there?
Judging by Getoâs slight shake of your shoulders as if scrambling the practical part of your brain back into functionality - and the way he wasnât lecturing your ear off just yet - you guessed that the two of you had been lucky this time.Â
Face burning, you pray you didnât look as guilty as you were. Swatting your older brotherâs well-meaning hands away. âSpeaking of, for a busybody hosting his own surprise party, Iâm shocked you didnât want any gifts.â Quirking a brow, âIs there even anything you want? Anything else?âÂ
Gojo knew what you meant - you werenât just talking about the party anymore.Â
And, wellâŠhe avoids your eyes. Yes. Yes, there is .
You.Â
But, woe, even the utterly shameless Gojo Satoru couldnât possibly say that out loud - especially in front of his best friend, and your brother - so he settles on an obnoxiously dragged-out, âAwww- Trynna make my birthday special fâme, sweetheart~?â
And even that was toeing the line.
He canât help the way his rosy lips curl smugly at the edges when youâre hissing out a heated, âS-see if I try and have a civil conversation with you ever again, Gojo.â
âOuch!â Gojoâs clutching dramatically at his heart with a willowy faint that leaves him hanging off of Getoâs shoulders - and it wasnât too hard to fake with the way his heart lurches uncomfortably at the sound of his last name on your pretty tongue. âRight for the jugular- is this your way of throwing the towel on our truce?â
TruceâŠis that what heâs calling it?
You catch your own brother - that traitor - stifling a bout of laughter behind his hand when his towering best friend seems to cower in your mere presence. Because, really, who was Gojo Satoru against you?Â
Sighing with that slightly infuriated pout you havenât lost since you were a whiny, teary-eyed brat meeting him at his Digimon-themed birthday party many, many years ago.Â
Gojo takes the moment to truly appreciate how youâve grown since.
He hadnât technically invited you back then - but what else was there to do when your older brother was off making friends in kindergarten already and being invited by his ânew best friendâ?
Youâd been pouty the entire evening at that, he remembers, and his mother had gotten a ton of photos just of your bickering duo. A year younger and just barely an inch shorter than him, but to a freshly six-year-old Gojo that made all the superiority - enough to tease you badly enough that youâd left him with a tiny, throbbing pink handprint across his cheek, and his poor heart in your palm.
âNo.â Your voice rips him out of his reverie, as it always seems to do these days. âSo you better k-keep up your end of the truce, too.â
With you stomping your way back to your cabin suite, Gojo finds his twinkling eyes straying right after. Hot on your heels. Unable to tear away. You really have changed since then, all grown up - as is he - and yet-
âThatâs after a truce?â Geto wonders out loud for the both of you.
Well, heâs eyeing his best friend. And Gojo was nothing if not a good- well, he was good at everything, quite frankly. Everything except for when it came to you. âSuguru, we might have to plan a surprise engagement party tonight instead of a surprise birthday party.â
âHuh?â
âHuh?â
Because he still feels as much the bumbling six-year-old with his first-ever crush as he was back then.
---
âMatching colors?â
You sigh, âCheck.â
âMatching backstories?â
âCheck.â
âKiss me?â
âCh- wait not yet-â youâre managing to shrill out, fingers curling even tighter around where Gojo had insisted you latch onto his bicep. And you feel him flex boastfully under his velvety button-up, âAnd do we really need to make some grand entrance? You literally planned the entire party.â
Heâs flicking your forehead - softly, youâve seen Gojo roughhousing with your brother before and he didnât use even half his strength on you. âSurprise party- the birthday boy has to make a dramatic entrance with his girlfriend. How else will we make a statement?âÂ
Youâre grumbling to yourself about why you needed to make a statement at all - but you canât argue, this was your idea after all.
And Gojo seemed well and fully intent to excel in his roleâŠperhaps too intent.Â
Now, you always knew that his family was disgustingly wealthy; but Gojo practically dragged you to the nearest high-end mall this morning. Insisting on the latest twinkling bracelets and bejewelled necklaces to match his fitted shirt. Cooing that you looked âabsolutely gorgeousâ in every single one.Â
Was this official girlfriend treatment from Gojo Satoru himself? Youâve never known him to have had a long-term relationship in all the years heâs been your brotherâs friend butâŠbut it was all so much for just one night of acting.Â
And when youâre twirling that flowy silken fabric of your dress around your fingers, you wonder if thatâs all he was thinking.Â
âHey?â The rounded pads of his fingers skim over your cheeks, âNervous?â
âA little.â you admit, trying oh-so-desperately to escape from his blazing sapphire gaze.Â
And Gojo crushes you close to his body, one massive palm resting firmly on your hips, hardened front pressing up against yours. Warm. Steady. Voice so close now that you could catch every slight crack towards the end, the heat of Gojoâs feverish breath - practically burning - against your ear.Â
You wanted to feel his hands more - everywhere.Â
Woah. Youâre shaking your head, thankful it simply looked like you were gathering your wits. Maybe you were more tired than you thought.
âWeâll be alright. Trust me, itâll go smoothly.â Was- was Gojo Satoru comforting you? Heâs cracking a smile, like the thought just occurred to him, too. âAnd if it doesnât then I can beat up that b-â
SLAM!
âWhy are you taking so lo- What. The. Fuck.â
Your first instinct is to wrench away from Gojoâs hold - but unluckily for you, his first instinct is the exact opposite. And you find his firm digits tensing to dig into the plush of your hips, both of your heads snapping towards that gravelly new voice.Â
Catching a jaw-dropped Shoko with her half-burnt cigarette dropped to the floor, she looked nowhere near even thinking of picking it back up. You could practically see the gears curdling around in her head.
âAh-â Youâre gasping out in what you hoped was believable scandal, fingers latching around Gojoâs own cold ones. Not to remove - no, Gojo almost has a heart attack when you intertwine them with yours. âHope weâre not too late, Sa- Toru here wanted to go shopping.â
âWait-â Shoko runs her hands through her silky locks like she was pleading to the skies above. âWait wait wait- wait- when did this happen no-â Sheâs baring you with her most aghast look, âWhy did this happen?â
Gojo comes to your rescue, face falling into the crook of your neck with a grin. âTold ya she would fall for my charms eventually~â
âYes, but I didnât think she was that stupid-â
Yes! You have to fight to hide your smile, despite the blatant insult. One down - if you could get everyone at this party to believe in your little act, then Sukuna would have to.Â
âStill hereââ Youâre deadpanning, hoping that your friends didnât catch the slight tremors in your voice. Damn- why did Gojo have to be so warm. â-and uh- maybe we should head inside? After it is a certain someoneâs-â
âShhh! Youâll ruin my surprise.â
It all goes according to script - well, your entrance with Gojo and his entrance into the party.Â
As soon as your duo steps in, the dim lights flicker on and youâre deafened with the cheery yell of surprise! Blinking your startled gaze to adjust to the blinding decorations upon decorations that Gojo himself had put up, you canât help but let out a chuckle at the smiling faces that meet you.Â
Geto and Haibara holding exploded party poppers, the rest of the group from Kyoto standing around a brightly lit cake youâd baked, Nanami the one turning on the lights - the farthest away from the birthday boy. Purposefully so, you imagine.
And there - in the center of it all - Sukuna.Â
Arms crossed, a pink brow raised as he drinks in the sight of you - all of you.Â
As was the rest of the room, eyes widening in true surprise.Â
Gojoâs clutching the front of his shirt with almost-frightening theatrics. âYou guys- You did this all for me? Youâre the absolute best-â
âEugh.â
âWhat did you blackmail her with?â
âCongratulations on your relationship!â
Your eyes latch onto Geto - who only takes a long look at you and cackles.Â
Gojoâs huffing ever-so-slightly as he gets cut off, and thatâs what it takes for you to realize that you still had his fingers looped undeniably with yours. In fact, heâs tugging you even close to wrap one heavy arm over your shoulder, the very picture of sappy devotion when he nuzzles his cheek into your own. âTheyâre bullying me~â
He was laying it on thick.
Heâd barely steered you into the living room before you catch a flash of white and two firm arms curled around your neck - away from your supposed boyfriend.Â
âMy lovely!â Utahime cries, cocktail abandoned somewhere to wrangle you free from Gojoâs treacherous grasp. Sheâs cupping your face with visible concern, âIs your head okay? Did you knock it somewhere? I know a good doctor that can help with-â
âHey! Sheâs my lovely-â
âIâm fine, Utahime.â Youâre subtly stepping on Gojoâs toes before things can escalate any further. Eyes meeting red ones from across the room, â-I promise. Weâre just ah- giving it a go. Itâs very new and we didnât want to make such a big deal out of it, honestly.â
Lies. The entire point is to make a big deal out of it.Â
Shoko crosses over in a flash, droopy eyes flickering between you and a sheepish Gojo. âGiving it a-â Slicing their way over to the decorative blush on his cheeks, â-goâŠhuh.âÂ
And as youâre surrounded by the tittering crowd, youâve never felt more like one of those cell samples that Shoko would dissect in medical school and proudly show your reluctant self pictures of.Â
Ogling everything from the weight of Gojoâs hand on your shoulders to that soppy smile on his face when he smushes his cheek into yours like some overgrown cat. And you canât help but wear a grin of your own.
Canât help but feel relief when she cracks a wicked smile, âFucking finally.â
Haibara gathers your hands in his own, âI-Iâm so proud of you two! Nanami and I have been hoping for this for the past five years-â Flitting his strangely wet eyes to a Nanami who couldnât have looked more disinterested if he tried. â-isnât that right Nanami?â
âNo itâs not.â heâs rolling his eyes, but you catch the slightest hint of a twitch at the corners of his lips. And it hits you that heâs happy for you.Â
Really, truly happy.
âRight right!â Haibara plows on, and you have half the mind to wonder if the obliviousness was a skill. âItâs been more like the past seven years-â
Geto slaps! his hand on Gojoâs shoulder, a knowing smile playing on his lips. âSo he finally grew the balls, huh?â
âEh? I mean-â youâre strangling out at your brotherâs sudden comment. â-I mean of course. Had to practically force it out of him though, yâknow?â
Shoko nods, eyes far away like sheâs remembering something you canât. âOf course, you did- pining fool.â And in the corner of your eye, you sneak a glimpse at the way Gojoâs sharp jaw clenches. Grinding ever-so-lightly as she calls out, âWell, I was almost at my witâs end with your horrible taste in men. No offense, Sukuna, not that this oneâs any better- let me know if you ever need his balls chopped off in his sleepââ
Utahimeâs narrowed glare stays locked on Gojo, âHurt her and itâll be more than your balls.â
Sukuna, notably, says nothing.
.
.
.
Gojo Satoru was a liar.Â
The guestlist for his birthday wasnât simply your friends - it was damn near the entire campus by the time the cake had been cut and youâd all settled into your usual conversations.Â
Body after body filtering in through those towering mahogany doors of his. Invitation or not. Rapidly and steadily, it was growing into another one of Gojoâs famed parties. Honestly, you wouldnât even be surprised if youâd actually bumped into Professor Yaga somewhere in there.Â
âEheh- whoops.â His apologetic words hit hotly against your ear over the thumping music. Your body jostling precariously where you were sat all prettily in his lap on the overpriced living room couch. âI donât even know half these people.âÂ
And, yet, more than half the people seemed to know you - or, at least, your relationship with Gojo.Â
Sure, you were aware that your brother and his best friend were amongst some of the most popular students on campus, but this was ridiculous. You couldnât pass two minutes without a few guests sauntering up to wish the two of you well and leaving Gojo with a âcongratulations for finally growing the balls.â
âThey sure know a lot about your balls, huh?â Youâre raising a brow, back pressed up against the massaging ridges of his abs. And some part of you felt guilty for deceiving all of these people - they really did look curiously happy for the two of you.Â
Gojoâs bemoaning, âI can assure you that you are the only one allowed to talk about my b-â
âUgh, couples.â Comes your brotherâs voice to the side of you, the cushiony couch dips as he takes his seat. âThough, it is much better than having him mope around.â
âSuguruâŠâ Gojo murmurs. Low.Â
âWhat? Scared Iâll embarrass you in front of your girlfriend?â Geto was such a provocateur despite that serene expression heâd constantly wear on the outside. Taking a long swig of his beer before musing, âRemember, sheâs my sister, Satoru. And I think she should know about that book of pick-up lines you bought for her. And that picture in your-â
Immediately, two engulfing hands find their place on either side of your head, covering your ears so blatantly. Gojoâs strained screech is only slightly muted when he drags out, âW-we havenât gotten to that stage yet!â
âOh, I see I see-â And Haibara - dear, sweet Haibara - always chooses the worst times to pop up from behind the two of you. Ringing voice commanding the attention of about half of the room nearby when heâs humming, âSo you two are still in the honeymoon phase, then? How romantic!â
âNo.â
âYes.â
Thereâs such dangerous possessiveness in Gojoâs limbs when they tangle in a mess with yours. One arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other gliding its lecherous pathway up and down your exposed thigh. Slowly. Savoring.Â
Gojoâs fingers twirl over the short hem of the dress heâd bought, lips pressed up against your throat as he mutters. âAw, câmonâ no need to be shy, sweetheart.â
And youâre sure whatever strange little flip your heart did showed on your face - because immediately, youâre being showered with awwwâs and squeals from all around you two- when did you even draw in a crowd?
âThen why dontcha give âer a pretty peck to prove it.â
But of course, Sukuna was in it, too.
âWhat?âÂ
You try not to let your true feelings bleed into your words when you take a long look at that unchanged smirk, the way heâs tilting his tattooed neck in defiance. Shrugging up sculpted shoulders, âMâjust saying. If you were my girl, Iâd want to prove it to everyone here.â
Damn.
Geto nudges his best friend, and you grit your teeth - because proving it was exactly what Sukuna did when you two were dating. Often these parties found you sneaking away if he felt generous, and Sukunaâs lips hot against yours right on the dance floor if he didnât.Â
All in front of a fuming Gojo.
And, hell, if he could be petty then so could you.Â
Youâre ignoring the boiling in your veins to run a few stray fingers through Gojoâs angelic hair. Soft. It drags his steely gaze from Sukuna over to you with a gulp, âSâthat okay, Toruââ Oh god, that nickname has Gojo wondering whether heâs in heaven. â-wouldnât wanna make you uncomfortable.â
âTch, are you kiddinâ me-â He recovers quickly, and you didnât know whether the raw awe in his voice was part of the acting or simply just Gojo being himself. â-provinâ to losers than Iâm yours is the best birthday gift I could get.â
The last thing you see is that tiny, curvaceous dimple at the end of Gojoâs grin before heâs smashing his lips onto yours. Itâs messy. Disorganized. The very beginnings of a sodden French kiss.Â
Sheer teeth and lips and need as he suckles lightly on your lower lip, pearly white canines sinking in ever-so-lightly until you keen. Lost into the wolf whistles erupting from the party-goers - it seems to knock some sense into you two.
And Gojo breaks the kiss with a panting pah! sugary sweet taste of his birthday cake lingering on your tongue - over as soon as it started. âHappy birthday to me.â
âYou are so corny-â youâre croaking, more so because you didnât know what to say than anything. Because all your mind was whirling with werenât words - it was the feeling of wanting more more more-
Shit. Your eyes widen, peering down at Gojoâs half-drunken gaze - even though youâre sure his lightweight self hasnât had a single drink tonight. You wanted to kiss him more.Â
âI-I think Iâm going to get a drink.â youâre mumbling out, hastily standing on two unsteady feet. Mere moments away from stepping into the kitchen - from making your escape - before long digits clasp around your wrist. With a plastered smile, you turn to Gojo, gaze flickering down between his begging eyes and that vice-like grip of his. âYou need anything, babe?â
âAh-â Gojo lets you go as if your skin scorched him - as if he didnât even realize that heâd been holding onto you this way. âNo no, nothing for me- donât take too long, mâkay~â
Every step you take, Gojoâs watching after you like it couldnât be fast enough.
Because after that? That kiss that had him feeling like a pathetically melty puddle of teenage hormones? Shit, heâs almost on the verge of getting out of his seat and running after you like a maiden himself-
âSoâŠugh- was that part of the truce?â
âHuh?â
âWas that- dammit, Satoru fuckinâ look at me- sheâs not even in your line of sight!â
âOh- what?â Gojoâs veering his eyes over to his best friend, gaze still trailing after you like a lost puppy even when he registers the other man talking to him. Your little audience had mostly dissipated by now, leaving him to act as much of a fool as his idol-like persona on campus didnât allow.Â
Geto lets him stew in the strobing silence of the party music for a little longer, before heaving out a sigh that was much too worldly for a young man of twenty-something. As a younger sister, you really did give him grief - and he finds himself almost wishing he hadnât interrogated Gojo after overhearing your strange agreement earlier today. âMan, you really are stupid, huh?â
âI know.âÂ
âAnd this charade of yours is even stupider.â
â...I know.â
âAnd you realize that you might just be helping her back into the arms of that Sukuna all over again, right?â
âWHAT?â Heâs so desperately loud that a few guests in the vicinity jump. But Gojo didnât care - he didnât give a shit about anything other than grasping onto Getoâs collar, shaking him stupid. âHave you lost your mind- Iâm supposed to be the nonsensical one in our duo-â
âI-Iâm just saying.â Getoâs putting his hands up as if a shield, âGetting an ex-boyfriend jealous using the same man he was threatened over when they were dating? Sounds like the textbook recipe for jealousy sex if you ask me.â
Oh, Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone. Brows marrying together, he only wobbles his best friend harder. âB-but no- that canât be- they hate each other, donât they?â
And, ah, he hated how Geto always knew what to say.Â
Hated how he already knew by the devilish curve of Getoâs lips that nothing that was about to fall out of it was going to do his sanity any good.Â
Gojo flails, âNo wait-â
âDonât you two claim you âhate each otherâ? And yet, here you are.â Getoâs patting his best friend on the back as if consoling him, shaking his head with the patience of a mother with a few problem children. âThere there, you complete imbecile. Now you might want to stay here sulking with a singleton like me, or- you might want to go over there and avenge the honor of your fake relationship, because I see an ex-boyfriend coming in hot.â
âWhat?â
Heâs jerking his head around so urgently that Gojoâs vision blacks out for a bit - and thatâs exactly the excuse heâll use for years to come when he shoots up to his full height. Snatching a glass of liquid courage from Geto-
âSatoru, thatâs-â
Knocking it back within seconds before storming off to just where he could just peak your beautiful self in the kitchen being crowded by Sukuna. That adorable furrow in between your brows betraying your thoughts, lips moving furiously with a frown.
âDo you think he knows that what he drank was just water and not alcoholâŠâ Geto tilts his now-empty cup at a lounging Nanami nearby, head bowed like he couldnât give a single fuck if this party burned with him in it.Â
âNo.âÂ
âDo you think he realized the âjealous sexâ was a bluff?â
âNo.â
Geto lets out a slight huff of laughter, âAnd do you think he realizes that more than one person in our group knows itâs pretend?â
âNo.â Nanami didnât care if he risked sounding like a broken recorder, after spending almost a decade with you two dancing around each other, he thinks heâs owed that privilege at the very least. âI donât think he realizes that had your sister so much as looked his way, let alone date his sorry self, then the entire campus would have been hearing about it for the past month.â For the first time since heâd found himself accidentally dragged into Getoâs conversation with him, Nanami raises his head to catch the tail end of Gojoâs lanky legs disappearing into the kitchen. âAfter all, Sukuna did break up with her because they were in love with each other. Just too stupid to see.â
Now, you might not exactly be his yet like heâs wished on every single birthday candle since he was six - but Gojo Satoru was to be damned if was going to let any other bastard steal his fake girlfriend.
âSukuna-â
âAwwwâŠwhat happened to âKunaâ, baby?â
You snort, arms crossing over each other while you fixate your glare on Sukunaâs leering form. God, the kitchen just seemed too small for the two of you. âI think you lost that privilege when you dumped me.â Attempting- failing - to sidestep, âNow if youâd excuse me, my boyfriend is-â
Scoffing, âGirl- what boyfriend?â
Sukuna looked to be on the very verge of laughter, and you were on the verge of breaking into a nervous sweat. Heâs rasping out a rumbling snicker at that look on your pretty face, âOh come on, now- you canât really expect me to believe that sorry excuse of a kiss came from the same man thatâs been wantinâ you for years, right?â
Shit.Â
WaitâŠyears?
Your fingers curl tighter around the beer bottle, âI-I have no idea what youâre talking about.â
And you watch as Sukunaâs mouth drops - now fully laughing in your face. âDamn- not even a hint? You really did downgrade after me, ma. At least I was honest.â
âHonestly an asshole, thatâs for sure.âÂ
But the rest of your fire swims down the drain as he inches closer. And closer. Heat radiating off the rippling muscles of his body when a big, beefy arm of his cages you against the polished marble counter. Head inclining slightly towards the door, âWell- why donât you and I-â
âTake your fuckinâ hands off my girlfriend.â
âSatoru?â
But the sight youâre met with seems anything but - gone is that softly teasing demeanor, vanquished is Gojoâs easy smile. His pretty features are twisted into such a feral snarl; and where his tone was ice-cool, his eyes were blazing with raw fury.
Gojo looked like he didnât even hear you as he echoes, âI wonât say it again.â
âWell alright then, Mr. Boyfriend.â Sukuna lets go of the cool counter surface with a knowing chuckle, walking horrifically towards a seething Gojo himself. The two stand eye-to-eye, glare-to-glare. âAre ya sure you and your third-rate acting wasnât interrupting anything between myself and my girlfriend?â
âSatoru, ignore himââ Youâre pleading, trembly voice jolting Gojo out of his hypnotized stupor, and making him drag his heavy legs around to you. Fuck, that was close. You didnât know what-
âThatâs right. Comfort your friend the only way you know how- sânot like you can do anything other than pine for decades until the next one comes around to steal her away, anyway.â
CRASH!
In a split-second, Gojo has Sukuna pinned against the wooden cabinets by his cotton shirt. Ego and desperation wafting from the two men as his feet dangle a few centimeters off the floor. Gojo had his teeth bared - eyes wild, looking like he was seconds from foaming at the very mouth. And Sukunaâs own lips quirked upwards into a grin.Â
âYou better watch your fucking mouth.â Gojo hisses.Â
âYou wanna tell her or should I-â
âWhat is happening here-â Shokoâs sharp voice snaps the three of you from your little bubble of violence, and itâs like all of a sudden the music and the party comes pouring back into the kitchen. Strangers and friends alike hot on your heels to watch the drama unfold, being pushed back by a frantic Haibara. âYouâre acting like children.â
Sukuna shoves the other man off of him, and makes his way out. âWell, I know one of us hasnât grown up.â
And Gojo is just about to stride forwards- until you catch him with a hand hooked around his elbow. Feeling the washing sense of deja vu from not too long ago. Hastily spitting out, âN-now- oh! Look at that, let me get that bruise cleaned up-â There was no bruise, and there was no reason for you to drag Gojo from the kitchen as fast as you did. Yet, you did anyway. âWeâll be upstairsââ
âManâŠSukuna.â Geto whistles lowly, watching you lug his 6â3 mess of a clingy best friend up the stairs and into what he assumes to be Gojoâs bedroom. âI know you wanted to set them up together badly but wasnât that a little much?â
âOh shut up- I donât give a shit if they get together or- or if sheâs happy or not.â he gruffs, stalking off.Â
Yet, Geto guffaws at the angry rouge that colored the very tips of his ears, and the slight wobble in Sukunaâs lower lip when he stops to watch you two make your escape.
Yeah. âDidnât give a shitâ his ass.Â
âUgh.â Utahime rolls her eyes, signalling at the DJ to raise the volume on the music just a tad louder. She had a dreading feeling theyâd strangely need it. âMen.â
.
.
.
Ugh, men.Â
You roll your eyes, the soft pads of your fingers tracing over where Gojoâs knuckles were slightly reddening after knocking against the cabinets. You were only glad that it didnât escalate into something even worse - damn this stupid idea.Â
âIâm sorry.â
Gojo breaks the thickened silence between you two, his sullen voice echoing across all four wide corners of the master bedroom. But all you can hear is the thundering of your own pulse when he blinks his eyes up at you, âI didnâtâŠdidnât think it would go this far.â
The two of you are sitting on the edge of his king-sized bed, practically sinking into the plush mattress. And you canât help but notice how much the room smells like him.
âAh, well- yâknowâŠâ youâre trailing off, and the way you look at him - so soft and raw will forever be etched into his honeyed mind. You were comforting himâŠwhat a night. âPlay stupid games, win stupid prizes. B-beside- itâs over now, isnât it?âÂ
He can only nod.
And you feel your fingers twitch where they were cradled in his much larger ones. Fuck. Here goes nothingâŠ
âSo that means I have to hold up my end of the bargain now, doesnât it?â
Oh.Â
Gojo blinks.
Oh.
âWait- so was it the body or the char-â
âUnless you finish that sentence right now. In that case Iâm never speaking to you again.â
And shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut Gojo Satoru up then youâd have been wielding this power much, much sooner. Breath hitching when his plump, pinkish lips instantly zip shut, and heâs scrambling off the bed to kneel in front of you.
Kneel.
Gojo was kneeling in front of you, knees clacking to the floor so hard that you think it must hurt. But all that he wears on his expectant face is the rosiest of blushes, and the slight pucker of his lips when he leans in. âI-Iâll shut up- but can I have my kiss now?â
You couldnât gift an answer even if your dizzy mind could somehow conjure up one.
Because with the slightest nod of your head - barely motioning even a few millimeters - Gojoâs crashing his lips onto yours like he was starved.Â
Like he didnât want to breathe - didnât need to - when his mouth was meshing against yours. Addicted from that faux kiss downstairs. Keening out a low whine at the very back of his throat, heâs gulping in steady heavals of your essence. Greedy hands circling your body-
âO-oh shit.â he kisses, mouth parting from yours ever-so-slightly because fuck, he had to breathe. But heâs completely and utterly sure that he could die happy right here and right now, lips firmly pressed against yours.Â
Youâre half-heartedly sputtering, âWe shouldâ the partyââ
âD-donât talk to me about a fuckinâ party, pretty.â His teeth pull lewdly on your lower lip, âOne more- that was a practice run. O-one m-â
This time, itâs you cutting him off.Â
Swallowing up the rest of Gojoâs sentence and forcing his body to wreck with a sudden bolting of lightning. And Gojo swears he tastes heaven on your lips, thumbing open your jaw further to pry out your lolling tongue and suck.Â
You moan out what sounds like a slurring string of his name over and over - praying that these walls were as soundproofed as they looked.Â
Fingers nimbling their way over to the first few open buttons of his shirt - the very graze of your skin down his burning one sends shots of electricity down Gojoâs body. It makes him jolt. It makes him drag in a heaving lungful. It makes his heavy palm drop its way to the curve of your ass and squeeze.Â
âWait-â heâs drunken. Seething. Silvery strings of rope snapping in the heady lack of space between you two when Gojo pulls away. â-whatâs it that they say- one more for luck?â
One more. And another. Another. Another and another and itâs still not enough even when Gojoâs mouth was throbbingly red and raw from crashing against yours, whimpering at the slightest wet glide of your candied lips across his.
Meshing in a sodden pucker heâs trailing his plumpened lips down the splatters of dribble thatâd made its way down the corner of your mouth.Â
As lazy as his hands were, long digits drawing circular massages up, up, up your thigh. Youâre gasping when the fat curve of his thumb nudges in through your drenched panties, drawing a sopping wet line down your teary slit.Â
âI thinkâŠâ Cutting himself off to let his tongue slide out and lick a languid stripe down your drivel. â...think I needa hah- kiss those other lips of yours for good measure, sweetheart.â
Oh.
Fuck.
He looked like he was seconds from drooling at the very thought. Nervous energy bleeding into his words, making them sound almost like a whimper. Gojo Satoru wasnât asking - he was begging on his knees right before you to eat out your pretty cunt.
Sharp inhales being sucked through his drunkenly parted lips when you slide your fingers through his sweat-soaked hair and pull. âTh-then you better make it worth all the trouble, Toru.â
Oh, his head tumbles backwards at the sound of that nickname on your lips once more.
Chuckling - chuckling - all humorless and crazed. Bleary eyes locked on you and only you, he doesnât move them a singular inch once all the while dipping his fingerpads into the hem of your panties and pulling. Dragging out the drenched excuse of your panties, theyâre splotching a glistening coating of your sweet, sweet juices down your thighs.Â
And Gojo only turns to look once he brings them eye-level - up to his face and-
âToru, youâre so nastyââ
âYa think?â Gojo huffs out through the slicked-up fabric of your underwear, breathing in your essence like it was his favorite scent. And you swear you catch him sneaking in a few droplets of your syrupy juices that splatter onto his mouth. Groaning, âOh, sweetheart- mâgonna make you realize just how nasty I really am.â
Without any apologies, without any warning, your thoroughly hypnotized self is being shoved down roughly onto the mattress. You bounce a few times against the navy sheets, legs hiking up on autopilot - exactly the way that Gojo wanted them.Â
You really were made for him.Â
Mewling, âWh-what-â
âShhh sh sh-â heâs whispering out in ragged rasps, still pressing a few pretty pecks against the mound of your translucently glossed panties. It was taking everything in him to part- to set them downâŠWell, perhaps not that far. Gojo stuffs your panties mindlessly into the back pocket of his pants, tongue swiping a moisturized coating over his lips when he takes back in the sight of you. âMâtalking to her.â
All splayed out on the bed for him - it was like all his dreams materialized into real life.Â
Literally.Â
âOh, look how wet she isââ His creamy fingertips push up your dress to make such a slurring mess all over your pursed lips. On purpose. Swirling the edge of his manicured thumb over and over in the tiniest of circles over your pulsing clit. And Gojo snickers at how greedy she was for his attentionâŠhow cute. â-whaddaya think sheâs ngh- tellinâ me, pretty?â
Rubbing your fists over your eyes, youâre seeing stars when Gojoâs rude digits give your clit a sudden pinch. âI-I donât knowââ
âAwww- are you sure?â Youâre being showcased the most innocent pout youâve seen him plaster on his entire life, lower lip jutting out and looming so dangerously close to kiss the drizzling trail at your puffy folds. âBecause sheâs so talkative to me- might jusâ be nicer than you.â
You wish you could snap back as you usually would - oh, how you wish.Â
But youâre sure that any and every noise that showers out from your dazed mouth wouldnât even be heard. Because for one infuriating time in your life, Gojo was right.Â
Those sugar-coated squelches from your dripping cunt replayed in your ears over and over. Every teasing pattern of Gojoâs fingertips has you rambling in a saturated song that sticks to your ears like cotton. And Gojo couldnât get enough.
He couldnât stop.
He couldnât falter no matter how much he wanted to keep up this ever-cracking facade of being suave. Heeding to practically every word from your pretty pussy when his heated mouth gruffs closer and kisses you.
Slow. Filthy.
âT-Toruââ youâre whining, your fingers entangling with his snowy locks. And no matter how hard you tug, Gojo doesnât move even an inch. â-make sure you ngh- b-breathe- fuck-â
âDonât need to..donât- donât need itâŠâ Gojoâs slurring out into your saccharine pussy lips, intentionally dragging out his words so that they vibrate all down your spine.Â
Button nose massaging against your ample clit, the decadent room rings! with a sultry squelch. And youâre peeking down at that sinful sight of Gojoâs tongue smearing your puffed-up pussy lips agape. Swiping around and around the circular hole of your entrance before plunging in-
Oh.
Gojo looked like he was so in bliss.Â
Eyes sliding all the way to the back of his head with one taste of your bawling cunt on his tongue- shit. Shit.
Shit shit shit. Heâs out of control when he gasps, two hands curling under and around your thighs to haul you down the bed. Maw hanging ferally open when heâs gashing your poor pussy with the most sodden French kisses - Gojoâs never kissed a person like this before. And he doesnât think he ever will - other than you.Â
Doesnât think heâll ever feel as feverish as he does right now when heâs craning his deft fingers into his mouth. Sucking. Tasting. Each and every one with a messy pop! pop! pop!Â
He really was nasty.
You gape at the way your slick hangs all down his lips and coats a sparkling glaze that drips down his chin and forms a little pool at his neck. His collarbones. Trickling down with pearly beads of sweat that sift between his perky pecs so mouthwateringly.
âF-fuuuuck-â Gojoâs hissing, brows scrunching together like he couldnât even believe what he was seeing. âYou jusâ got ngh- wetter. S-so much wetterâŠâ
Itâs said like a prayer.Â
Like a plea because your cunt was driving Gojo crazy.
âItâs all because of ah- youââ You squirm at the way that these were the words tumbling from your mouth. And you already know that Gojo was about to tease you for this for the next few years - if he even remembered, that is.Â
Because just about the only thing that he can do right now is twirl the edges of his fingers over your winking hole. Once. Twice. Before feeding you inch by long inch of his middle finger - in your lusty haze you think you manage to count about six inches from his staggering size.Â
And it only had you imagining his size down below.Â
âDonât squeeze around m-me- fuck who am I kidding-â Gojoâs sleazy pumps of his hand has your cunt slobbering all down to his working wrist. Adding in one more, two. â-drool all over me- make a mess- hah- fuckinâ ruin me.â Mouth bumbling a mile a minute when his drives build up sloppily, swiveling around your gummy walls to nudge over all your tenderized sweet spots. âYeah- heh- yeah suck me up like that. S-such a slutty girl, arenât ya?â
âS-stop being so-â
So what?
Talkative with your cunt? So greedy when he shovels his face back in between your tottering thighs? So heated when he utters. Like a death sentence. All that he could. âI-I canât stop- do you know how long Iâve ah- imagined this? Dreamt of this?â
Your palm constrict on his silky strands and Gojoâs so pliant when he lets himself be rummaged even deeper against your pussy. So ready to be used. âTh-think I like you better when you ngh- shut upââ
And even through it all, Gojo finds it in himself to roll his eyes - though, you think itâs a way to disguise the way heâs agonizingly swimming in euphoria more than anything. Chuckling out wetly, âTh-think I like it better when youâre ah- actually on mâtongue and n-not jusâ in my fuck- dreams when I have my cock in hand.â
Shit.
Heâs so shameless.Â
Fingers jackhammering in and out in and out in and out-Â
âWhere is it-â heâs spitting out into your squirming pussy, the lower half of your body being pinned to the mattress with one of his strong arms. Youâre feeling the way his biceps bulge against your skin. Getting faster. Faster. â-where is it where is it where-âÂ
âWhat are you even ngh- looking for, Toru?â youâre crying out - it was all so much now. So close.Â
But the only answer you get are your ankles being tugged to wrap around Gojoâs fervent head, pinned with one hand behind his back. âLock it.â Keeping you held there until the ends of your feet knot as vice-like as possible to mash his face into your drooling cunt.Â
Gojo wraps his rose pink lips around your weepy clit and sucks through furrowed brows when his thorough digits surge upwards at a bruising pace into a bulbous magical spot. That spot.Â
âFound it.â
And you find yourself cumming with such a loud yelp of Gojoâs name - throat rubbing sore with every peak of your high. Your orgasm crashes into you over and over as he laps up every bead, every splatter, every drop that youâre giving.Â
And heâs still parched.Â
Spitting out a wet slew of saliva into your quavering hole, Gojoâs making such a mess of you. Absolutely ruined when he sucks up every wet smear that waterfalls from your cute cunt - so thirsty.Â
Itâs only when your high has died down to a few tingles, when your limbs twitch with overstimulation, that Gojo finds himself pulling away. His lips stinging rawly, nose slicked and dripping with your sweet, sweet juices - youâre hearing the most pained grunt from between your legs as he pulls away.
It hurt him to.
âOh, w-would ya look at thatââ
You werenât sure if you trusted him enough to look - already knowing that whatever it was would have your mind reeling.
But how could you not when Gojoâs fat fingertips squeeze your cheeks together into a pathetic pout, opening your glazed mouth just wide enough for him to salivate. A thick wad of spit hitting your lolling tastebuds, his thumb swipes over the stray slops thatâd made their home on the corner of your slack jaw.Â
He grins, âI said look, sweetheartâŠâ
Groaning, your eyes blink downwards - and you werenât even sure what you were witnessing at first. Not even sure if you were daydreaming - because Gojo had his black dress pants unbuttoned. Shoved down until his thick, milky thighs just enough for you to witness his massive length.
Yeah, his fingers were definitely an indicator of something.
Because Gojo was so big that you felt nervous. His length swollen and thickened to an incredible girth. All pretty with a red, rotund ruby tip that blushes a cute strawberry pink all the way down, down, down until neatly trimmed tufts of white at his base. Saddling his tight, hefty balls that looked much too heavy.
He made your mouth water.Â
But that wasnât all - no, what really catches your eye and snaps you from your orgasmic haze and into a half-lucid state were the creamy rings upon rings that laminated his shaft. Frosting-like dredges of cum sliding lazily down his angry cock, spurting out a few more from his weepy divot at the very end at your unwavering attention. Did he-
âYes.â Gojo gasps out in a condensed puff, his voice sugary and embarrassed. Shit, did you just say that out loud? âI-I came just fromâŠyouâre just so-âÂ
Damn, he curses his stupidly babbling mouth. So drunk on you that he canât voice all the sinful thoughts sprinting through his melty head right now - all the thoughts that have been already for years now.Â
It was impossible - even for his big fat mouth.
So without another word, Gojo tuts as heâs rolling his shoulders as if on instinct to pop a few joints; in one, fluid motion your body is being sidled into such an easy princess carry.Â
Patting you down right into the cushiony middle of the bed, he looms over you - stalks over to you. And you canât deny that the absolutely feral smile twisting his features makes your cunt twitch.Â
âToo many clothes.â Gojo tugs on your dress - that darkened glint in his eyes not boding well for you or-
RIP!
-for this dress.
At the sight of your jaw dropping in adorable surprise, he chuckles out a rough, âDonât worry- Iâll buy ya that again. Iâll buy ya the ngh- whole fuckinâ store jusââ And oh with a few masterful flicks of his fingers on your bra, youâre left in nothing underneath him. Nothing to hide your perfect body away from the way he was fucking you with his half-lidded eyes. â-just let me f-fuck this cute cunt, please?â
It takes you a few sloppy seconds of Gojo nibbling down your neck for you to realize that heâs waiting for you. For anything.Â
Huffing, your shaky fingers clench around the glaringly open lapels of his button-up. âSâunfair th-that youâre the only one in clothes-â
And, well, who was Gojo Satoru against you?
Youâre demandingly helping him shrug off that branded shirt, buttons hitting the ground, his pants hitting the floor-
âWhoops.â Gojo grins sheepishly when his pants and those tight boxers collapse onto the floor in a tatter of fabric and your panties. âJusâ consider it a uh- birthday gift, prettyââ
No longer having his flaps of fabric to reel him in by, your fingernails dig neat little patterns of crescents on his heated skin as you drag him down to you. Heady breaths mingling with one another, âYou said no gifts, remember? If you ngh- really want those panties- y-youâre gonna hafta earn it, Toru.â
And earn it he will.Â
Because as soon as the bulging spherical shape of his fat head swipes a sopping kiss down your pussy lips, you feel yourself already moan. He was so hot.Â
Already so pussydrunken when he says, âHope ya donât mindââ Teeth sinking into your tender earlobe, â-this is my first time.â
Fuck.
Fuck.
You barely even have the mindpower to register those words before youâre being split apart - gasping at the almost-unnatural feeling of being so thoroughly full. Of having our steamingly hot insides being fucked open with just the simple tip of Gojoâs staggering cock.Â
âCâmon- câmonââ Heâs lunging up in slow, mindless gyrations trying to force his thick length inside. Powerful arms keeping your wrangling legs spanned wide open for him, they barely even let you budge. Biting down on his lip in frustration, âF-fit inside- shit, your pussyâs so tight, sweetheartâ sâit too big for you?â
Stubbornly, âNo-â
And Gojo only has to glissade the curves of his palm down to that inflationary nudge of where he was drilling into your cunt. âNo?âÂ
â...no.â
Pressing down. Hard. âNo?â
âFuck- yes- youâre just too big-â And you meant it as a complaint - you really did. But those words only have every ounce of blood remaining in Gojoâs shivering body galloping down to his gluttonous cock. Pushing at the seams to make him expand even fatter, bigger- âWhy are you getting bigger?â
Shit, you really needed to watch that mouth of yours.Â
Because it has Gojoâs hulking body falling onto two elbows on either side of your head, like a heavenly cage you didnât ever want to get out of.Â
Sweat-simmered forehead bumping into yours, you feel his large fingers interlace dangerously on top of your head. âYou need to-â Heâs crashing his lips against yours in such a filthy open-mouthed kiss. â-s-stop talkinâ outta ya ngh- pussy. Leave that to her.â
Her.Â
And youâre so utterly distracted by all his little ministrations that you didnât even realize the way he was snugly fitting himself into your cunt.Â
The stretch is impeccable when it hits you like a train at full speed, feeling the tiny nooks and crannies of your magical spots being brushed up against the thrumming upright curve of Gojoâs cock. Heâs leaving no millimeter of your elastic walls unturned, unstretched. Untainted.Â
Gushing out a sweltering hot wave of buttery pre that sloshes all the way against your womb. âOh- oh what the fuck-â Gojo hisses, chest heaving. And if you didnât know any better youâd have wondered if he was in pain. â-what the fuck- th-this is what you feel like?â
Right - shit. In all the chaos, youâd forgotten those words heâd confessed just earlier - Gojo Satoru was a virgin. Because of course, he was. Donât make him laugh, who else would he have ever wanted to see him like this other than you?Â
A virgin that was currently pacing his slender hips back and forth to instrument the most syrupy squelches from the very gooey bottom of your cunt. His drooling mouth spreading wider and wider with every sultry half-thrust.Â
You mewl, âH-how does it feel, Satoru?â
âI-I feels so- soââ But the words are failing him - the words are escaping him with every gummy squeeze of your walls like you wanted to swallow down more and more of his solid inches. And hand on your hips swirls your hips around ever-so-slightly to feel his sobbing tip paint tiny circles of gluey precum inside you. Gojo snaps his eyes open - wild. â-is it even l-legal to have ya cunt feel this good, sweetheart? This- oh! Heavenly?â
And he was sounding genuinely concerned. Genuinely worried for his sanity once Gojo manages to feed your needy cunt all of his length.Â
Now in.
Fully.
And it feels too good - too blissful to have almost every single prayer in his life finally answered that Gojo canât help but scrunch his eyes shut and cum.
Loudly. Pathetically.Â
One hand dancing downwards to give your plump clit a punishing little squeeze as if it was your fault. The other curling around your throat to have you meshing your mouth with his panting one, you can feel it in the vibrations how his voice cracks at the very same second your gooey cunt is filled with such copious dumps of his seed.
Thereâs so much.Â
As if heâs cumming and cumming harder than he has in his entire life, every splatter of stifling hot cum managing to paint the bullseye of your g-spot in pure white. Ounces of his seed creaming around his hefty base, it smears and slide around your thighs as Gojo continues to fuck you into the mattress. Pound after pound that make him see overstimulated stars.Â
And it makes Gojo giggle - giggle - head lolling deliriously into the crook of your neck, now covered in a slather of his drool. Every slow ram into your splurging cunt has him grunting out the tiniest ah! ah! ah!Â
âShit- fuckinâ embarrassing-â You hear him groan into your neck, licking a languid column from his tongue before biting. Hard. Hard enough that youâre wondering whether heâd draw blood, âCan ya believe- s-saved my virginity for the ngh- girl of my dreams nâ mâcumming already~?â
He leaves a few final pecks against your lips, âTh-this pussyâs got me too haaaah- addicted, prettyââ As heâs moving to part sloppy ways, youâre gasping at the splatter! of something warm. Wet. And only then do you register the literal tears crinkling at his eyes from overstimulation. Crying.Â
âA-are you okayâ Satoru?â Youâre whining, limp fingers skimming away the strands of white that cling to his prespired forehead.Â
âNo.â Comes the answer, comes the heaving gasp when Gojoâs fatigued limbs force themselves through his trembling muscles to heave back upright. âOne m-more. That was a practice run.â Throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, you feel his flexing deltoids underneath you when Gojo brings one ankle up to his mouth and kisses. Muttering - more to himself than anything. âB-but mâgonna make yâfeel good- oh- fuck- mâgonna make you t-take this big cock.â
His words have you just as stupidly fucked as his fat shaft does.Â
Those lightning bolts of his veins thump down the upperside of your goopy channel, massaging your sweet spots over and over and-
âTh-think it was here-â Gojoâs palms feel everywhere and anywhere down your tummy for the vicious back and forth of him inside you. To feel that bulging opening, the way your snug channel clenches every time his bouncy tip recoils back from your cervix. Wanting more more more- â-or w-was it- here.â
âFuck!â The entire expanse of your spine arches off of those thoroughly and filthily dampened sheets now, meshing up sluttily into Gojoâs body until his prespiry-glossed abs cushion your front, plush pecs so comfortably collapsing on top of you. âThere- there there hngh- more-â
âMore-â Gojo chuckles, hitting that precious spot over and over. His chubby head mashes in slurping soppy collisions until he was out of breath. Dizzy. âMore she says- Greedy girl, wh-when you have me already ngh- dripping out of you. Shit- squeezinâ me so. Oh-â
And his vigorous fingers scoop up such lecherous volumes of his own milky cum, toying with the gushing waves of white your poor pussy leaks with every pound.Â
Heâs bullying them between your lips - cerulean eyes dilating, mouth sagging unsealed when you eagerly suck on his digits. Tasting his candied self, tasting you. Somehow managing to muffle out, âM-mânot greedy.â
Gojo can only grin, âS-say that to me when this oh- cunt of yours isnât sucking the fuckinâ soul outta me.â
And Gojo would love to tease you more for this - to mouth away for hours on end into your ear about how drenched you were getting and muse out loud whether youâd dreamt of this just as much as he has, too.Â
But instead, heâs pecking a flurry of lovely kisses all down your face. Gasping into your lips, âM-move that pretty hand fâme-â So rudely swatting those fingers of yours thatâd snuck their way down to toy with your neglected clit, Gojoâs taking over himself to rub steady, methodical circles. Thumb peeking pressure on the hood of your clit just the way heâd read online. â-Iâve always w-wanted to ah- do this. To fuck you raw. T-to ruin you and ngh- fill you up-â As his words spill, so do a few ropey wads of pre. More. Frequent. â-a-and eat you out all over again. See how you taste like mineâŠâ
âY-youâre gonna-â You canât even bring yourself to say it. âAgain?â
âOf course, sweetheart- why? Scared I- oh.â
Thatâs when he does it - the mistake of peering his barely-open eyes down.
His weightily smacking balls that smooch against your ass with each thrust clench oh-so-painfully at the vision of your puffed-up pussy lips gaping around him. Drooling. Swallowing. Accommodating his ruthless cock for all you can, practically broken in half and still yearning for more.
Shit, the sightâs so hypnotic that Gojo doesnât even realize when heâs letting his thoroughly overwhelmed body lock into yours like a puzzle piece. So hefty and sculpted.Â
His abs practically melting into your body, and his sloppy hips pistoning into you even deeper. Harsher. Every raring grind of Gojoâs lengthy shaft probes into your g-spot so hard. Like he wanted to leave widely battered bruises of his circumference on your sweetened spots, your cervix, anywhere and everywhere he could reach. Like he couldnât stop.Â
Doesnât even know the very word right about now in this filthy, filthy mating press. âCâmon- câmon one more for ah- luck?â Whimpering, âMy sweetheart, I-Iâm gonna-â
Gojo sees white when he cums once more this night - and you do, too.Â
Youâre not sure if itâs because of the violent streaks of electricity that run down your entire body, or because of the treacly spurts of cum that overspill from your poor cunt. But fuck- did it feel so good.Â
Your entire body tingles all the way down from your toes up to your bleary head - and the entire room feels like itâs fucking spinning at this point.Â
Black tinging your vision with ever overfilling thwack! of Gojoâs tight, cum-filled balls as they empty out, out, out into your depths. Itâs coating your insides like a sticky second skin, leaving stringy drizzles of seed seeping from between your slit. Adding to the ever-growing puddle before.Â
Youâre feeling it swashing around you with every drivel of his hips. Overstuffing your elastic walls until you felt like they were about to burst.Â
And all you can do is simply grapple your nails into the bulging muscles on Gojoâs back, whimpering out a broken, âT-Toruââ
âMâhere I-Iâm hereââ Yet his voice sounds airy, hitching like he was on cloud nine. A beefy arm wraps around your body and manhandles you close to him like some sort of ragdoll, âMâhere- shit-â His lips graze against yours in what you assume must be a kiss, too oversensitive to even perk his head up and peck you senseless like you knew he wanted to. âNever lettinâ ya go- haaah- never- ah-â
Whatever promises Gojo always imagined whispering into your ear can be said and done later.Â
Right now, the only thing he can streamline his body into doing for him is to search blindly for his discarded pants by the side of the bed. Searching for that bulge in the back pocket- no, not the panties heâd swiped right in front of you - instead, heâs feeling for the shape of his wallet.Â
Pulling your tired body back into his, Gojoâs carding it lazily open to show you that.Â
Exactly what they were talking about.
Splayed out proudly in the front and center of his wallet was a picture of the two of you. Years and years ago exactly on this date, the aged photograph showed a smiling Gojo Satoru in front of a candlelit birthday cake, tiny cheeks all pinkened. A small, surly you standing by his side - eyeing his Digimon hat more than you were eyeing the camera.Â
But that didnât matter, because Gojo wasnât looking at the camera, either.Â
He was looking at you - exactly the way he was right now.
Glowy eyes half-lidded, a mysterious little smile playing on his lips. Gojo nuzzles his face against yours and breathes out a tiny, âIâŠI might have loved you ever since then, yâknow that?â
Youâre gasping, eyes shining withâŠsomething. And Gojoâs heart stutters as he wants to find out. Wringing your hands to wrap around his broad chest, youâre coiling your legs together until youâre unsure where one ends and the other starts.Â
Whispering three lovely words into his ear - and three more into the honeyed air.Â
âHappy birthday, Satoru.â
---
Gojoâs one wish was to wake up next to you - like this. Under soft blankets, with your sleepy breath puffing softly into his collarbone, your body tucked safely into his.Â
And he never wants to let go - could never even dream of anything that could ruin this precious moment-
âMind explaining who ordered wedding decor last night on MY account?â
Ah, that would do it.Â
Bleary blue eyes wrench open, taking Gojo every shred of will in his body to not jolt at the unwelcome greeting of Shoko peering down at himâŠwhile he was all wrapped up with his best friendâs sister in a bedroom that could almost be mistaken for a crime scene.Â
Would it really be too late of a birthday wish to hope that she hadnât noticed your tattered clothes on the floor, the ruined state of the sheets, and the way that the bedframe sagged suspiciously on one side?
Gulping, heâs pressing your body even tighter into his, careful not to let you stir - well, at least it couldnât get worse than this-
Footsteps.Â
Close.
And an unmistakable few voices - and laughter. âIs that my sist- SATORU, YOU BASTARD-â
âEugh.â
âWHAT did you blackmail her with?â
âWoahhh- congratulations on your relationship!â
A/N. Lowkey has the spirit of a crackfic, I fear. This was SAUR fun.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#tonywrites
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Four Times Natasha carries you and one time you asked.
Summary - Natasha liked to flex by picking you up, however you don't often enjoy it.
Words: 3K
Warnings - Maybe a little sexual implications, but not really. Nightmares.
You inhaled a sharp breath, smoke filling your lungs as you ran through the building. Damn Hydra. Damn bombs. Heat burned on the walls around you, searing into your skin and bringing a hot flush to your face. Your legs burned as you searched for your team. Hand coming up to your com, you tried to get contact with any of them. All that came was static.
A piece of wood fell down in front of you, a rafter snapped in half by the flames. You jumped back, searching around for another exit. The fire pushed behind you and from the right, engulfing everything in its path. You glanced at the left, spying a window that was still shut. That would do.
The fire crept closer as you fiddled with the latch on the door. Your hands slipped several times, shaking with anxiety. Eventually, you managed to still your fingers enough to slide the lock and push the window up. Your back burned, the fire pushing ever closer.
Cautiously, you glanced at the window, gauging the drop. It was a good ten feet, and yet it was your only option. If only you had a suit like Tony.
Placing one foot on the ledge, and ducking your head underneath, you balanced precariously on the ledge. You took a deep breath, smoke filling your lungs once more, and shook out your hand that wasn't desperately clutching the edge. Slowly, you placed both hands on the ledge and lowered your legs and body down. It would lessen the height you would have to fall. The fire started lapping at your fingertips. You released the edge.
The impact shook you as you landed and dived into a roll, your shoulders aching from the force. You winced, your ankles burning and right shin absolutely covered in stinging pain, like needles piercing you through the bone.
A muffled cry escaped your mouth as your eyes watered. Smoke drifted into the sky above you as it escaped through the window you left open, the fire had mostly swallowed the building whole by now.
Hydra had sent the Avengers on a wild goose chase, leaving trails of evidence to a building in the middle of no where. You, Steve and Natasha were sent to investigate, and when you were sweeping the building, a small bomb was set off downstairs, igniting a fire that trapped you in the upper floor.
Natasha rounded the corner, having heard you hit the ground. She rushed over to you, kneeling next to you and gently taking you face into her hands - her gentle, calloused, hands. She examined your face, taking in the layer of soot that coated you, and your flushed cheeks that were slightly visible. With a soft look in her eyes, she placed a tender kiss on your lips.
"Did you jump?" she asked, her tone conveying frustration.
"Yeah," you mumbled, afraid she was upset at you.
Natasha muttered something in Russian, scooting towards your legs to carefully examine them. Nothing appeared wrong with them, but when she gently tried to move your right leg, you winced and flinched away. She pursed her lips, staring at your legs contemplatively,
You looked around, noticing that Steve wasn't around, "Where's Steve?"
Looking up Natasha met your eyes once more, "He's getting the jet."
You nodded, before firmly pressing your palms into the ground. Before you could push upwards to try and stand, Natasha shoved you down.
"What are you doing?" she questioned, tone just slightly angry at you now.
"Standing." you answered bluntly.
Natasha shook her head firmly, red hair brushing against her cheeks and wiping away some of the soot that coated them. You looked at her curiously as she moved to a crouching position.
"What are you doing?" you repeated her earlier question.
She didn't answer, but a small smirk crossed her lips as she placed an arm underneath you knees and another to support your back. In one smooth movement, she lifted you up. A shriek escaped your mouth as you struggled.
"Stop struggling," she ordered, "I'm going to drop you."
"Good," you glared up at her, "I can walk."
Natasha scoffed as she started walking away from the burning building, "No you cannot."
You pouted, but nestled your head onto her shoulder. A smirk formed on you mouth as you got an idea. Leaning in a little bit, you pressed a kiss to Natasha's neck. She sucked in a sharp breath, but kept her gaze straight ahead. Smiling to yourself, you gently bit at the same spot, before placing a soft kiss there.
Natasha glared down at you, her emerald eyes containing a silent warning. You grinned up at her innocently.
"Stop that," she adjusted you in her arms, "Wait 'till we get home."
There was a certain glint in her eyes when she said that and you felt a hot blush cross your cheeks, causing a soft laugh to rumble in her chest.
^______________________^
You sat on the couch, gently munching on some popcorn. Natasha's arm sat around your shoulders, holding you close as you rested on the spot between her jaw and collarbone. A movie played on the large screen TV, a horror movie. Damn Natasha.
The two of you had gotten into a playful argument earlier. It started with you talking with Bucky about movies, before he made a teasing remark about your jumping habit during scary movies. You scoffed, refuting the statement. Natasha chose that moment to chime in, her shirt hanging off her shoulder from when she just woke up, and said you really were scared. With a soft blush you denied the statement.
Hence your current predicament as you sat on the couch in Natasha's floor. Her head turned, a kiss pressed onto the top of your head.
"You scared yet, Dekta?" she asked, her hot breath fanning against your face.
"No," you mumbled.
And yet your body pressed further into her as suspense build and the music increased. Your hand fell out of the popcorn bowl and was now tightly clutching the fluffy blanket draped across the two of you.
"Are you sure?" she questioned again, and you could feel her eyes burning into the top of your head.
"Y-yeah."
The main character rounded the corner. The music went silent as the killer popped around the corner, knife in hand. The main character screamed as you jumped, a full body flinched. Your face burned as you heard Natasha's amused laugh.
She pressed another kiss to the top of your head, pulling you closer, "You sure you're not scared?"
You pouted, a soft whine escaping your lips.
Another laugh escaped her, "Come here, dekta." She pulled you into her lap, securing her arms around you and pulling you against her chest.
"Hey!" You protested, despite the fact that you loved it, "I'm not a baby."
"Mhm," Natasha hummed, unconvinced.
"I'm not scared," you muttered.
Natasha ignored you, instead just pulling you closer into her chest as she hummed in content. The movie continued to play, and wrapped in Natasha's protective, if not teasing, embrace, you fell asleep. Natasha sighed lovingly and picked you up bridal style. Even asleep, you sighed happily and snuggled into her chest as she carried you to your room.
^______________________^
To celebrate his birthday, Tony decided to throw a party. He ordered everyone to show up and dress nice, with a particular glare towards you as you tended to dress casual to nice events. It wasn't your fault fancy clothes were uncomfortable.
However, this time as you moved to pull on your favorite pair of tight jeans, Natasha sauntered into your room, a dress in hand. Her green eyes roamed over you, a spark of interest in them. A smirk formed on her face as she walked over to you - still wearing nothing but undergarments.
"As much as I like seeing like this," she began, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, "I brought you some clothes."
You blushed at her words, a fire creeping up your neck and the tips of your ears. A beautiful laugh came from Natasha as she pushed a dress to your front.
"Put it on."
You scowled, glaring down at her. You were just a bit taller than Natasha. She looked back up at you with an expected eyebrow, perfectly manicured as always. When she first walked in, you were too flustered by your near naked state to notice her attire.
She wore a white blouse with puffy sleeves that silver buttons going down the center. Her blouse was tucked into a pair of flowy black dress pants. The black and white outfit brought out her red lipstick, not too bright and yet stunning all the same, and her emerald eyes that always seemed to sparkle.
Once again, Natasha smirked at you, giving you a small kiss before pushing you a little, "Go get dressed."
Scowling, you marched towards the bathroom, grasping the dress in your hand. You shut the door with a final glare at Natasha, who was still smirking at you. For a moment, you fumbled to get the dress on, but once you did, you saw why Natasha chose this dress.
It was a dress that fell just to your shins, with a slit going nearly to the top of your right thigh. While you normally thought red didn't work on you, this dress did. You stared at yourself in the mirror, wondering if this dress truly worked on you. Natasha was normally the one who wore dresses and dressed up in this relationship, but she seemed to want to swap it around for once. With a deep sigh, you exited the bathroom.
Natahsa grinned, a radiant smile that you loved.
"You look beautiful," she grinned, taking your hand and dragging you towards the party.
That was how you ended up where you were now, in a drinking contest with Bucky. It was a stupid decision, you knew that, and based on the way Natasha rolled her eyes affectionately, she thought so too. But Tony bet you twenty bucks, so you really had no choice.
Bucky had downed at least ten drinks by now, and you had probably done the same. Your head swam and your words were slurred. As you downed a shot, you felt a an arm on your shoulder.
"I have a girlfriend," you slurred, turning to attempt to glare at the person.
The woman, with bright red hair and sparkling emerald eyes smiled softly at you, "I am your girlfriend."
You gasped, really?? She was the most stunning woman ever.
"Really?" you squealed, "You're so pretty." The last word was drawn out was you fell into her arms to make a sloppy hug.
She laughed, her chest rumbling as she held you up.
"Let's get you to bed."
"Noo," you whined, trying to shove away from her, but she held you tight, "I'm busy."
She shook her head with amusement but said nothing. Rather she scooped you up bridal style, placing a small kiss to your forehead.
"Goodnight Bucky."
"Night, Natasha."
The super soldier wasn't nearly as wasted as you. You squirmed in Natasha's hold with a whine. She shushed you, pulling you closer with orders to stop squirming. Pouting, you snuggled into her chest with a sigh of content. She was cozy.
"You're cozy," you mumbled.
Her chest shook as she laughed softly, smiling down on you as she stepped into the elevator.
You looked up at her, taking in her perfect cheekbones, the way her lips curved into a soft smile. Her red hair was wavy and shoulder length, touching the top of your head. Green eyes, the color of a forest, which had always shone when she smiled, stared down at you with adoration. She looked like an angel.
"You're so pretty," you offered her a toothy grin, "You're like an angel."
She laughed again, placing a soft kiss to your head, "Let's get you to bed."
^______________________^
You made sure to keep your footsteps soft as you crept towards your prey. The hallways were dark as you hefted your weapon, careful to keep your breathing even. There were no comns on this mission, leaving without backup for when you inevitably needed it.
Your heart thudded in her chest as you rounded the corner, taking in the dim room. Above you, the light was turned all the way down, casting a faint light as a show played quietly on the TV - forgotten for the sake of the mission.
Looking around, you searched for your prey. Your prey was your hunter all bundled into one.
A shriek escaped you as a pillow came into contact with your head. You ran with the motion, spinning around and swinging your own pillow at Natasha. The widow ducked. She smirked up at you and you ran, rounding the couch before frantically facing her.
The two of you did the classic dance around the couch. With her, approaching one side, and you moving in the opposite direction.
Natasha smirked, "Apologize." She ordered.
You gulped, brushing stray hair out of your eyes. Recently, she had been searching for her favorite hoodie, and when it turned out to be in your closet after you denied having it, Natasha was furious.
"I didn't know it was in my closet!" That was the closest you would get to pleading for mercy, but you would never apologize.
Natasha narrowed her eyes at you. It took you a moment to realize what she was thinking, and by the time you did, it was too late. She bolted around the couch, pouncing on you and tackling you to the floor. You fell with a thump, and she pinned you down.
You struggled, which in hindsight was useless, she was always stronger than you. Your wrists were pinned above your head and her legs were sat on either side of your waist. A faint blush appeared on your cheeks, only deepening her smirk.
"Apologize," she demanded once more.
Even though you knew you had lost, you shook your head. Natasha's grin should have been warning enough, but she dug her fingers into your side. Giggling, you tried to shove her hand away. She tickled your sides relentlessly, not letting up even as you begged for her to stop.
"Nat please!" you gasped, grasping at her wrists.
"Apologize." She paused for a moment, staring at you expectantly.
You pouted, looking up at you with pleading eyes. Natasha heaved a sigh, feigning annoyance, before digging her fingers into your sides once more. You squirmed, giggling.
"I'm sorry!" you shrieked between laughs, "Sorry!"
Natasha stopped, satisfied. She climbed off you after giving you a kiss. Holding her hand out to help you up, Natasha grinned victoriously.
"Come on," she said, "We have to get ready for dinner with Wanda and Vision."
You groaned dramatically, placing a hand on your chest and pretending to die.
"No," you moaned, "Just leave me here! I'm too weak to go on."
Natasha scoffed, "Get up."
You didn't respond, shutting your eyes and sticking your tongue out in a dramatic imitation of death. Then suddenly, you felt hands under your armpits and your eyes shot open. Natasha hefted you over her shoulder, ignoring your squirming and smacked your ass gently.
You shrieked, but giggled, nonetheless.
^______________________^
Natasha had nightmares; it was hard not to. While she had hers, you also had yours. Natasha tended to be silent, back rigid and muscles tense during her nightmares. You, however, fought. Thrashing and sometimes screaming.
Natasha was woken up by a solid thump on her back.
"Baby?" she whispered, turning around with bleary eyes.
Your legs were thrashing about as the blanket fell to the floor, sweat coating your face and dripping down your neck. Natasha took a sharp breath.
"Y/N," she said, harshly - it was the only way to get you to wake up, "Y/N"
Your fist flew out, nearly hitting her in the face. Carefully thinking about her movements, Natasha jumped to pin your arms down, her heart breaking when you whimpered and cowered away. She held your arms down on the mattress so you couldn't hit her and avoided your legs flailing about. She blew some air in your face, and for some reason that worked. It always worked for some weird reason.
Eyes snapping open, you jerked away from Natasha, scuttling towards the head of the bed to curl into a ball. Your breaths were coming in heavy, and Natasha wanted nothing more than to wrap you in her arms and keep you safe, but she didn't know if you wanted that.
Frantically, you looked around the room, hands shaking. After a moment your eyes landed on her. A sob burst from your throat, and you launched yourself towards her, clinging to her and sobbing. You buried your head in the crook of her neck and wrapped your arms around her. Natasha smoothed down your hair, which had gotten wild during your nightmare. She pressed a gentle kiss to your head.
"You're okay!" you sobbed, breaths sharp and uneven, "You- you were dead! I saw it and I-"
"Hey," Natasha cut you off, planting another kiss on your head, "Look at me."
She cupped your face with her hands, pulling you away and forcing you to look at her. Your eyes were puffy, and your nose was red. You sniffled, leaning into her touch with a sigh.
"I'm okay," she muttered, tracing your cheekbones with her thumbs, "I'm okay and it was dream."
You sniffled once more, "Can you make me hot cocoa?"
Her heart broke at your fragile tone and how little you sounded.
"Of course."
Natasha got up to move, ready to set you down on the bed, but you clung tighter to her. Letting out a soft laugh Natasha looked down at you.
"You have to let me go, baby," she said softly.
"Carry me?" You pouted out your lower lip and peered up at her with wide, teary eyes.
Natasha sighed but picked you up as you wrapped your legs around her waist. She carried you to the kitchen on the floor.
"I love you," you whispered.
"I love you too."
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đ"I trusted you, wife, and now I'll teach you what betrayal feels like."
â€ïž Synopsis. Caught in a web of lies, a spy's double life unravels when her mafia husband discovers her betrayalâturning their love into a merciless game of dominance, vengeance, and obsession. She was his wife, his possession, and now, his prisoner.
⥠Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology
⥠Pairing. Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss x Fem. Reader
⥠Novella. The Enemy in His Bed - Part 1
⥠Word Count. 8,548
⥠TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, rape, blood play, forced oral, fear play, knife play, needle play, heavy bodily injury, slut shaming, objectification, psychological torment, actual torture methods, mature language, humiliation, degradation, forced orgasms, sadism, BDSM, groping, biting, bondage, nudity, fire play, gagging, physical assault and violence, choking / breath play
You are in a room that reeks of blood and mildew, the air so heavy it feels like itâs pressing down on your lungs. The faint hum of a fluorescent bulb flickering above casts the space in a sickly yellow light, illuminating the cold, concrete walls streaked with rust-colored stains. Youâre tied to a chairâno, anchored. The ropes around your wrists and ankles are so tight you can feel the pulse of your blood struggling beneath them, the fibers cutting deep into your flesh. Your breathing is shallow, ragged, your chest rising and falling as if every breath might be your last.
He stands in front of you, a towering figure cloaked in shadow. His silhouette is broad and unyielding, the kind of presence that fills every corner of the room with an oppressive weight. This manâthe man who used to call you lyubov moyaâis no longer the husband you once knew. The ruthless Russian mafia boss whose name is whispered like a curse. His eyes, dark as pitch, are fixed on you with a predatorâs focus, glinting with something primal, something vile. Heâs not here to forgive. Heâs here to destroy.
âDo you feel it?â His voice is low, gravelly, but it carries the force of an earthquake. He steps closer, the sound of his boots hitting the floor like a countdown. âThat crawling under your skin? Thatâs fear. Thatâs regret. And yet, you still sit there,â he hisses, his tone sharp enough to flay skin, âwith that fucking look in your eyes.â
His hand shoots out, grabbing your chin with bruising force. His thumb digs into the soft flesh just below your cheekbone, forcing your face upward. The light catches his features, and for a moment, you see the rage carved into every hard line of his face. But itâs his eyes that terrify you most. Theyâre dead things, black holes where love once flickered.
âYou betrayed me,â he snarls, the words laced with venom. His grip tightens, and you hear the faint crackle of cartilage in your jaw. âMy wife. My fucking wife. And all this time, you were a spy. An actress in my bed, a liar in my world.â He releases you with a violent shove, and your head snaps back, the base of your skull colliding with the chairâs hard frame. Pain blooms, hot and electric, as blood trickles from your nose, the metallic tang filling your mouth.
The room is silent except for the sound of his breathing, heavy and deliberate, like a beast stalking its prey. He circles you now, each step echoing like the tolling of a bell. âDid you think I wouldnât find out?â he asks, his voice quieter but infinitely more dangerous. He crouches down beside you, the leather of his gloves creaking as he pulls a blade from his belt. Itâs thin, surgical, the kind of tool meant for precision rather than brute force. âDid you think I wouldnât break you?â
The blade glides along your collarbone, its edge so sharp it almost feels cold. He presses just enough for the skin to part, a shallow cut that wells with blood and sends a sharp sting radiating through your nerves. âThis is just the beginning,â he whispers, his lips so close to your ear you can feel the heat of his breath. âYou donât get to die yet. Not until Iâve carved every secret out of you. Not until you understand what betrayal costs.â
Your pulse is erratic, hammering in your chest as he stands again, looming over you like some ancient lord of vengeance. His fist connects with your cheek, and the world spins, your vision blurring as pain explodes across your face. Blood spatters across the floor in a violent arc, warm and sticky as it drips from the corner of your mouth.
âWhereâs your defiance now?â he growls, his voice shaking with fury. He grabs a fistful of your hair, wrenching your head back so your gaze meets his. âYou want to look brave, milaya, but I know better. I can see it in your eyes. Youâre already breaking.â
His lips curl into a cruel smile as he lets go, letting your head drop forward. The room seems to tilt, the edges of your vision darkening, but you wonât give him the satisfaction of your surrender. Not yet. Not while thereâs still air in your lungs.
But heâs not done. He wonât be until every inch of you is stripped raw, every nerve exposed and screaming. He reaches for a switch on the wall, and with a flick, the room is bathed in red light. It casts his shadow on the walls, grotesque and distorted, like a demon looming over the damned.
ââââââââââââ
The door creaks open, and a figure, one of his subordinates, enters the room, dragging a metal tray laden with an assortment of cruel instruments. Your heart races as the cold steel glints under the flickering lights, each tool designed for a specific kind of torment.
The Russian mafia boss nods curtly, his eyes never leaving yours as the man sets the tray down with a clatter. "You're going to tell me everything," he says, his voice low and deadly.
"And then, I'm going to show you what it means to betray the one who gave you everything." He leans in, his hot breath on your neck, his grip on your chin painful.
"But first, I want you to remember what you used to be to me," he murmurs, the words a dark caress that sends a shiver down your spine.
His hand travels down, cupping your bruised cheek before sliding down to grasp your throat. You swallow hard, the fear rising like bile in your throat, but you refuse to show it. He squeezes, the pressure increasing until your eyes water, but you don't make a sound, not even a whimper.
His eyes narrow in frustration before he releases you, the hand moving to grip your jaw instead, forcing your mouth open.
With a sneer, he brings his face closer, his stubble scraping against your skin as he whispers, "You were once my sweet little bird, singing only for me. Now, you're a caged whore for the highest bidder." He slams his mouth down on yours, his kiss bruising and possessive.
You taste the rage and desperation in him, and for a fleeting moment, you feel a pang of pity.
But it's quickly replaced with a fiery resolve to survive, to somehow escape his clutches.
His tongue forces its way into your mouth, and you bite down, hard. He pulls back with a growl of annoyance, but instead of releasing you, he laughs, a dark, chilling sound. "Good girl," he says, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
"You still have some fight left in you." His eyes scan the tray, and he selects a pair of pliers. "Let's see how much you can take."
He reaches for your shirt, his fingers deftly unbuttoning it despite your struggling. The fabric tears away from your body, exposing your bruised and bound breasts. He squeezes them, watching the pain flicker in your eyes with a twisted pleasure. "These used to be mine," he says, his voice filled with a sadistic glee. He leans in again, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "But now, I'll make sure no one else ever touches them again."
The air in the dimly lit room reeked of sweat and copper, a metallic tang that coated your tongue as you gasped for breath. His shadow loomed large, an oppressive specter that seemed to drink in your pain. The pliers in his hand gleamed under the flickering lightâa surgeonâs precision wrapped in a sadistâs grip.
His voice slithered through the silence, low and venomous. âTell me,â he hissed, his words thick with cruelty, âwhose touch youâve dared to crave besides mine.â
Your chest rose and fell, trembling under his gaze. You held your tongue, the taste of defiance as bitter as bile. His jaw tightened. Then, without hesitation, he snapped the cold steel jaws of the pliers onto your right nipple.
The first twist came like lightning, sharp and blinding, a searing current that jolted through your body. The delicate tissues twisted under the unyielding bite of the metal, the nerve endings igniting like fireworks. You clenched your teeth so hard your jaw ached, your scream lodged in your throat like a jagged stone.
He leaned in closer, his breath an unwanted warmth against your cheek. âStill stubborn, arenât we?â he murmured, his tone laced with mockery and dark amusement. âLetâs see how long that lasts.â
The second twist was slower, deliberateâa calculated cruelty that made your skin crawl. He pulled, the pliers dragging the sensitive flesh in directions it was never meant to go. You could feel the tissue straining, tearing, fibers unraveling like the threads of a fragile tapestry.
Your vision swam, black spots blooming like ink blots against the edges of your sight. He laughed softly, the sound of a predator savoring its kill. âBeautiful,â he said, almost reverent. âEven in pain, youâre mine. Always mine.â
The climax of his sadistic art came with a grotesque pop, the sound of tissue surrendering to force. The pain was an inferno, all-consuming, burning through every nerve as he wrenched the nipple free from your body. Warm blood spilled in rivulets, pooling on the filthy floor beneath you. The ruined flesh hung like a torn petal before he carelessly tossed it aside, letting it hit the ground with a wet slap.
He stepped back, his gaze fixed on your bloodied chestâa grotesque canvas of raw meat and trembling sinew. The shredded skin wept crimson tears, each droplet sliding down to trace the curve of your ribs. The room tilted; your body screamed for reprieve, but there was none to be had.
âYouâre breathtaking like this,â he said softly, running a gloved hand over your mutilated breast. His touch was clinical, detached, as if admiring the precision of his own handiwork. âBut weâre far from finished.â
The metal tray clattered as he reached for his next toolâa scalpel, gleaming with sterile menace. But before he could wield it, he paused, considering. With a dark smile, he reached instead for the salt.
The coarse grains glittered like tiny shards of glass as he grabbed a fistful. âLetâs ensure you remember this moment,â he whispered, and then he scattered the salt into the gaping wound.
It was as if the salt detonated on contact, each granule a fresh explosion of agony. Your body bucked involuntarily, the ropes digging into your wrists as you thrashed against your bindings. The scream that tore from your throat was raw and primal, reverberating off the walls like a wounded animalâs last cry.
His smile widened, a cruel crescent etched into his face. âMuch better,â he said, almost soothingly. âNow weâre making progress.â
The pliers returned, their jaws still slick with blood as they moved to your remaining nipple. This time, you could see the shadow of his intent, the cold malice in his eyes as he clamped down. The pain came like a tidal wave, drowning you in its depths as he twisted, pulled, and twisted again.
The nipple tore loose with a sickening crunch, cartilage snapping, blood spurting in a violent arc. Your chest was no longer your ownâit was a ravaged landscape of gore, a grotesque testament to his control. The raw, exposed tissue oozed and quivered, a mockery of what it once was.
He stepped back, his chest heaving with exertion, his eyes drinking in the destruction heâd wrought. âYouâre exquisite when you break,â he murmured, his voice tinged with satisfaction. âBut donât worry, little wife. Thereâs so much more of you left to ruin.â
You hung limp in the chair, your body trembling, every nerve ablaze. Your silence persisted, but his words lingered, curling around you like smoke, a promise of horrors yet to come.
ââââââââââââ
The mafia boss steps back, his chest heaving with exertion, his eyes never leaving the destruction he's wrought upon your body. His hand reaches down to adjust his crotch, where a noticeable bulge has formed.
He's enjoying this, the sadist, getting off on your suffering.
"You're going to scream for me," he says, his voice low and filled with a primal hunger. "You're going to beg for me to stop. And when you do, I'll make sure you never forget who you belong to."
He moves to stand in front of you, his pants tenting obscenely. He unbuckles his belt, the leather making a harsh sound as it's pulled from the loops, the anticipation in the air thick and suffocating. He unbuttons his pants, and his cock springs free, hard and angry. He strokes it, the motion taunting you, a silent challenge to see how much more you can endure.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice a whip crack that slices through the pain.
You refuse to give him the satisfaction, keeping your eyes cast down, focusing on the puddle of blood forming around your chair.
He grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. "Look at what you've done to me," he snarls. "You've turned me into a monster."
He steps closer, pressing his cock against your bruised and bleeding chest, the heat from his arousal a stark contrast to the cold steel of the pliers still digging into your skin. He grinds against you, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
"You're going to take this," he says, his voice a mix of anger and lust. "You're going to take every inch of me until you remember who you are."
With a brutal yank, he twists the pliers on your nipples even more so, and you feel your body convulse in a silent scream.
He takes the opportunity to force himself inside your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. "Suck it," he orders, his hand fisted in your hair, pushing your face closer to his crotch.
With a burst of defiance, you clamp down on his cock with your teeth, biting as hard as you can, feeling the warm flesh between your teeth, the taste of his pre-cum mixing with the coppery tang of your own blood.
He roars in a mix of pain and pleasure, his grip on your hair tightening as he thrusts deeper into your mouth.
The mafia bossâs eyes widen in shock, but the arousal in them doesn't waver. Instead, it seems to intensify, his pupils dilating with a dark excitement.
"Fuck, you little bitch," he growls, his voice a mix of anger and desire. "You're going to regret that." His hand moves from your hair to the back of your head, pushing down harder, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth with a sickening rhythm.
You refuse to give in, biting down again, the pain in your breasts and the metallic taste of blood only fueling your resolve to fight back.
He responds by slamming your head into the chair, stars exploding across your vision, but you don't let go. The pain radiates through your skull, but you hold on, biting even harder.
The Russian's hand trembles with a mix of rage and arousal as he pours an unmerciful amount of salt into the gaping wounds on your chest.
The agony is instant and overwhelming, your body arching off the chair as the salt sears into your flesh, setting every nerve ending alight with pain.
The scream that rips from your throat is muffled by his thick cock, still lodged in your mouth. His grip on the back of your head tightens even more, his hips jerking as your teeth graze his shaft, the scream vibrating along his length.
He watches your face contort in torment, his own expression a twisted blend of love and hatred. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Scream for me."
He pours more salt, the grains falling like a sadistic rain upon your ravaged breasts. Your teeth clench around his cock as you fight back the urge to pass out from the pain. Your eyes squeeze shut, and tears stream down your face, mixing with the blood and saliva that coats your chin. He seems to revel in your suffering, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breaths more ragged.
The henchman, his eyes wide and slightly horrified, watches from the corner, unsure of what to do. The Russian mafia boss, noticing his employee's discomfort, turns to him with a wicked smile. "You want a taste?" he asks, his voice a dark promise.
The man shakes his head, unable to tear his gaze away from the macabre scene unfolding before him. The mafia boss laughs, a low, chilling sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Then get the fuck out," he snaps. "I'll handle this one."
The henchman nods hastily, retreating from the room, the door slamming shut behind him.
You're alone with the monster you once called your husband.
The salt has stopped falling, but the pain remains, a constant reminder of your betrayal and his wrath.
He pulls back a bit, panting heavily, his cock still hard and slick with your saliva. He looks at your destroyed breasts with a twisted kind of fascination, the blood and salt creating a gruesome tableau. "You're so beautiful when you scream," he murmurs, his voice almost tender.
His hand reaches out to trace the edge of one of the wounds, his touch surprisingly gentle amidst the chaos.
You flinch away, the slightest of movements, but it's enough to snap him out of his daze.
The mafia bossâs hand clamps down on the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him again. His eyes are dark with lust and anger, a storm brewing in their depths. "You're going to pay for every lie," he says, his voice a promise of unspeakable torment.
He then pulls his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, the sound echoing through the room. You gasp for air, your throat raw from his rough treatment. He steps back, his gaze traveling down your body, taking in every bruise and tear. "But not before I make you feel everything I felt when I found out you were whoring around."
He grabs you by the hair, yanking you to your feet, the ropes around your ankles making you stumble. He pulls you to the tray of instruments, his eyes lingering on a long, thin knife.
The blade glitters in the light, a silent threat of the pain to come. He picks it up, his hand steady, his movements deliberate. "You're going to tell me who else has had you," he says, the knife hovering just above your skin. "Every name, every touch, every time you spread your legs for someone who wasn't me."
His grip tightens, his thumb tracing a line along your jaw. "And for every lie, I'll make sure you feel it here," he says, pressing the knife against your throat, the cold steel a stark reminder of the power he holds over you.
You stand before him, your body shaking with pain and fear, but you refuse to speak.
The Russian's eyes narrow, and he presses the knife harder, a thin line of blood welling up. "Tell me," he demands, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
But you remain silent, your teeth clenched, your eyes locked on his.
He sighs, a sound filled with disappointment and resentment. "Very well," he says, moving the knife to your chest.
He slices through your shredded shirt, the fabric giving way easily to reveal your bruised and bloodied skin. "If you won't tell me willingly, I'll make you confess."
He starts to cut, the blade digging into your flesh, tracing patterns of agony across your stomach and ribs. You bite your lip, the pain a living entity consuming you, but you refuse to break.
He pauses, looking up at you with a mix of admiration and anger. "You're so stubborn," he murmurs, almost to himself. "I used to love that about you."
His hand moves lower, the knife grazing your navel, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You can feel your body responding despite the pain, a traitorous arousal building within you. He notices and smirks, the knife moving lower, hovering just above the fabric of your pants. "But now, it's just another reason to make you suffer."
With a quick movement, he slices through the fabric, exposing your nakedness to the cold room. He traces the edge of the knife along the line of your underwear, the threat of what's to come clear in his eyes. "You're going to tell me," he says, his voice a seductive whisper. "Or I'll start peeling you like a damn orange."
You force yourself to remain still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.
He leans in, his breath hot on your skin as he presses the knife against your inner thigh, the tip just barely breaking the surface. "Who else has been here?" he asks, his voice a dark caress.
You bite down on your tongue, tasting blood, but still you don't speak. The mafia bossâs eyes flash with anger, and he presses harder, the blade cutting through your skin. You grit your teeth, willing yourself not to scream, not to give in.
With a snarl of frustration, he slices through your underwear, the fabric falling away to reveal your most vulnerable areas. His hand moves to cup your pussy, his grip bruising. "So wet," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.
"Do you get off on the pain I give you?" He strokes you roughly, the knife still pressing against your thigh, a constant reminder of the power he holds. "Or is it the fear?"
His thumb brushes against your clit, and despite the horror of the situation, you feel yourself respond. It's a traitorous betrayal of your own body, but you can't help it; his touch has always had this effect on you.
"You're mine," he says, his voice a low growl. "You'll always be mine." His hand moves from your pussy to your throat, squeezing tightly. You gasp for air, your eyes watering as he forces you to look at him.
"Say it," he demands. "Say you're mine."
You refuse, the word 'no' lodged in your throat, unspoken but clear.
His grip tightens, your vision swimming, but you stand firm, your resolve unbroken. He laughs, the sound a chilling echo in the room. "Fine," he says, his voice a harsh whisper. "We'll do this the hard way."
The mafias bossâs patience is at an end, his rage and lust boiling over. He yanks the knife away from your throat, the sharp tip of the blade leaving a trail of fire across your skin as he moves it downward.
With a quick, violent thrust, he pushes the knife into your pussy, the cold steel parting your wet folds with ease.
You scream, the sound a mix of agony and despair, your body trembling as he uses the knife to fuck you.
He's merciless, his strokes deep and hard, the blade sliding in and out of your tight hole, the edges scraping against your inner walls with each brutal thrust. You can feel the warmth of your blood mingling with your arousal, the sensation making you want to gag.
"You like that, don't you?" he whispers, his breath hot on your ear. "You like it when I hurt you. Fucking masochist." His free hand snakes around your throat, squeezing just enough to keep you on the edge of consciousness.
"You're such a good little slut, taking it all." He continues to use the knife, his knife thrusts growing more erratic as he gets closer to climax.
"Tell me," he grunts, his voice strained. "Tell me who you've been fucking." But you remain silent, your teeth clenched in a silent snarl of defiance.
The room spins around you, the pain in your breasts and the invasion of the knife in your pussy making it difficult to think straight.
Yet, you refuse to give him the satisfaction of an answer.
The Russian's grip on the knife tightens, his strokes growing faster, harder. "I'll make you talk," he says, his voice a dark promise. "You can't hide from me forever."
The knife twists, hitting a particularly sensitive spot, and you can't help the scream that tears from your throat. He smiles, the sight of your pain seemingly pushing him closer to the edge.
As you feel the world fading around you, the older manâs grip on your throat tightens, his eyes wild with a mix of anger and arousal.
He slams the knife into your pussy one final time, the pain so intense you think you might actually pass out.
But just as the darkness begins to claim you, he pulls the knife out, the absence of the cold steel leaving you feeling violated and empty.
He throws the knife aside, his own breaths ragged and desperate, his cock pulsing with need.
"Fine," he snarls, his voice a harsh rasp. "We'll do it the old-fashioned way."
With a quick movement, he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down, his cock springing free, thick and hard. He grabs your hips, spinning you around so that you face the chair, your destroyed breasts pressed against the cold metal. He kicks your legs apart, and you feel the tip of his cock nudge against your bruised and bloodied entrance.
"You're going to tell me," he says, his breath hot against your neck. "You're going to tell me every name, every face, every cock that's been inside you."
His hand moves to the back of your head, pushing down until you're bent over the chair, your ass in the air. "And when you do, I'll make it all better. I'll make you forget them all."
His cock slams into you without warning, the pain so intense you can't help but cry out.
He's rough, his movements punishing, his anger and pain manifesting in every thrust. You can feel him stretching you, filling you completely, his cock hitting a spot that makes you see stars.
The Russian's cock slams into you with the force of a battering ram, the pain so intense it steals your breath away. He's not gentle; every thrust is a declaration of his dominance, a punishment for your silence.
Your body shakes with the impact, your bruised breasts smacking against the cold metal chair, the pain from the fresh wounds sending jolts of agony through your system. His hands are like iron bars, holding your hips in place as he uses you, his grip bruising your skin.
Each time he pulls out, you feel the warm gush of your blood and arousal, mixing with the sticky mess he's creating inside you.
"Who else?" he snarls, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your shoulder. The pain is a white-hot brand, but you refuse to give him what he wants.
Instead, you spit in his face, the saliva mixing with the sweat and blood that coats his skin.
He rears back, his eyes flashing with fury, and then he slams into you again, his hips moving like pistons, his cock a weapon of torment. "You think you can resist me?" he growls, his voice a dark whisper that sends shivers down your spine. "I'll make you beg for mercy, cunt."
You bite back a scream as he hits your g-spot, his fingers digging into your hips as he uses your body for his own sadistic pleasure. You can feel him thickening inside you, his orgasm building with every punishing thrust. "Tell me!" he roars, his hand reaching around to squeeze your throat again, cutting off your air supply.
"Tell me who you've been fucking, and maybe I'll let you live." Your eyes bulge, your nails clawing at the chair as you fight the urge to pass out.
After a particularly brutal thrust, the mafia boss releases your throat, and you gasp for air, your lungs burning. "You're going to tell me," he whispers, his voice a promise of more pain to come. "You're going to tell me, or I'll make sure you never feel anything but pain again."
His grip on your hips tightens, and he starts to move faster, his cock pistoning in and out of you with a wet, slapping sound. You feel your body betraying you, your walls clenching around his shaft despite the pain, the traitorous orgasm building within you.
"Never," you croak out, your voice barely a whisper.
It's all you can manage, but it's enough to fuel his rage. He slams into you again, his cock hitting a spot that makes you see white. "You're mine," he says, his voice a harsh rasp. "You've always been mine."
His hand moves from your hip to your clit, and he starts to rub it roughly, the friction sending sparks of pain through your body. "You're going to come for me," he says, his voice a dark command. "And then you're going to tell me everything."
Your body is pushed to its limits as the Russian's relentless assault continues. Each thrust feels like a hot iron rod being driven into your soul, the pain unbearable as your body is stretched and filled with his monstrous cock.
The sound of your flesh slapping against his is like a grim symphony of agony, echoing through the cold, sterile room. You can feel your insides tearing, the warmth of your blood mixing with his seed, a grim reminder of his ownership over you. His hand on your clit is a sadistic maestro's touch, forcing pleasure from your bruised and abused body despite the pain.
"Tell me!" he roars, his grip on your hips like vice. "Tell me who's been inside you, and maybe I'll stop." His voice is desperate now, a mix of anger and love warring within him, his need for control overshadowing any shred of humanity he might have once had.
But you remain silent, your eyes squeezed shut, your mind a haze of torment. The only sound in the room is the harsh grunts of his exertion and your muffled whimpers.
The mafia bossâs sadistic stroking of your clit reaches a crescendo, and despite the agony of your injuries, your body responds to his command. You cum around his cock, your muscles clenching tightly, trying to push him out even as they pull him deeper.
He groans in victory, feeling your pussy pulse and spasm around him, his own orgasm building. He fucks you harder, his hand moving faster, his thumb pressing down mercilessly on your clit, forcing wave after wave of unwanted pleasure through your trembling form. You scream, the sound a mix of pain and climax, your body shaking as you cum for the second time, blood and fluids painting the chair beneath you.
"Fuck," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "You're so fucking beautiful when you're in pain."
He doesn't stop, his thrusts growing more frantic as he chases his own release. You feel his cock thicken, his grip on your hips tightening until it's almost painful. "Again," he says, his voice a dark whisper. "Cum for me again." And despite yourself, you do, your body responding to the twisted game he's playing with your emotions and your pain.
The mafia manâs orgasm hits like a freight train, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his seed. You feel the warmth of his cum mixing with your blood, the sensation making you want to retch.
But you stay silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing your despair.
He pulls out, his cock slick with your blood and his cum, and you collapse onto the chair, your legs giving out beneath you. You're sobbing now, the pain and humiliation too much to hold in.
He stands over you, his chest heaving, his cock still hard and glistening. "Look at what you've done to yourself," he says, his voice a mix of anger and pity.
"This is what happens when you betray me." He grabs a handful of your hair, forcing your head up so you have to meet his gaze.
His eyes are wild, the love and hurt swirling together in a toxic brew. "But I can fix you," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"I can make you mine again." He releases you, and you slump back down, your head hanging limply.
The mafia boss stares down at you, his chest heaving with his own release. The rage in his eyes hasn't dimmed, but there's something else there now. Something that looks almost like hope.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a mix of disgust and admiration. "You're still fighting." He steps closer, his hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw, his touch gentle despite the bruises he's left there.
"But you can't win, my love."
You spit in his face again, the defiance burning in your eyes like a dying ember.
It's all you have left, and you cling to it with everything you have.
He wipes the spit away with the back of his hand, his smile twisted. "Oh, how I've missed your fire," he says, his voice a low growl. He grabs you by the shoulders, spinning you around to face him. "But it's time to put it out."
With a swift movement, he pulls you to your feet, the ropes around your ankles cutting into your skin as you stand. He yanks your torn shirt up, the fabric sticking to your blood-covered breasts.
His eyes travel over your body, a mix of hunger and disgust. "You're a mess," he says, his voice filled with contempt. "But I'll make you clean again."
He pulls you closer, his cock still hard against your stomach. "You're going to tell me," he murmurs, his voice a dark promise. "And when you do, I'll make you forget all about them."
The Russian's eyes gleam with a dark excitement as he takes in your bruised and bloodied form. He grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat.
His free hand reaches down to a specific part of his belt, unbuckling it with a sharp click that echoes through the room. He then pulls out a set of keys from it and unlocks a drawer in the desk, revealing an assortment of whips, chains, and other tools of torture. His hand lingers over them, a sadistic smile playing on his lips as he selects a particularly vicious-looking whip.
The mafia boss selects the spiked whip, the leather crackling with anticipation. He takes a moment to appreciate the gleaming metal spikes, the sight of them making your stomach churn. He grabs a bottle of vodka from the same drawer, the clear liquid sloshing in the bottle as he brings it to your blood-soaked crotch.
You try to jerk away, but his grip on your hair is unyielding. With a cruel smirk, he pours the alcohol over your wounds, the stinging pain making your vision swim.
You scream as the liquid seeps into your freshly torn flesh, the coldness of the vodka a stark contrast to the heat of your blood.
He doesn't give you a chance to recover, instead bringing the whip down in a vicious arc that connects with your bruised and abused pussy with a wet slap.
The pain is a white-hot brand, searing through you as the spikes tear into your sensitive flesh.
You can feel the alcohol burning into your wounds, a fresh agony added to the symphony of pain already playing in your body.
He doesn't stop there, though; he brings the whip down again and again, each strike more precise and brutal than the last.
You thrash in his grip, trying to escape the torment, but he's too strong, too determined to break you. His strikes are methodical, a twisted dance of pain and power, the whip's spikes digging deeper with every hit.
The mafia boss then wraps the end of the whip around your throat, the spikes biting into your tender flesh as he squeezes, cutting off your air supply. You claw at his wrist, your nails leaving bloody furrows in his skin, but he only tightens his grip.
Your eyes bulge, your chest heaving for air that won't come, your vision swimming with stars.
He leans in, his breath hot against your face, his eyes gleaming with a sick satisfaction as he watches the life drain from you. "Tell me," he whispers, his voice a dark promise of more pain if you don't.
But you refuse to give in, even as your lungs burn and your chest feels like it's going to explode.
Your hands fall to your sides, your body going limp in his grip, the only sound in the room the wet, gurgling noise of your struggles. He holds you there for a moment longer, watching you with a twisted fascination before finally letting go.
You gasp for air, your throat raw and burning, the coppery taste of blood filling your mouth. He smiles, a twisted parody of affection, and pulls out another tool from the drawer.
It's a metal rod, the end shaped into a cruel hook.
"This," he says, his voice a dark purr, "Is for when you decide to be more⊠cooperative."
He steps closer, the rod in his hand glinting in the harsh light of the room.
You can see your reflection in the gleaming surface, a broken doll covered in blood and sweat. He runs the hook over your skin, tracing the curves of your body with a featherlight touch that's somehow more terrifying than the pain of the whip.
"You're going to tell me," he says, his voice a gentle coaxing that's more unsettling than his previous roars. "And when you do, I'll make it all better."
You spit blood in his face again, your voice a harsh whisper. "Never."
The word is a declaration of war, a challenge he seems to relish.
He laughs, a sound devoid of humor, and brings the hook closer to your pussy.
"We'll see about that," he murmurs, the hook pressing against your bruised and swollen flesh.
You tense, expecting the worst, but he surprises you by sliding it along your slit, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of your pain. The mafia boss uses the hook to spread your labia, exposing the raw, bloody mess he's made of your most intimate parts.
"Look at this," he says, his voice filled with a twisted admiration. "You're so beautiful when you're broken."
He leans in, his breath hot against your skin as he runs the tip of the hook along your clit. The sensation is so intense, you almost pass out from the pain.
"But you're going to be even more beautiful when you're mine again."
He pushes the hook inside you, the spikes scraping along the inside of your pussy, and you scream hysterically, your body arching in agony.
The mafia bossâs smile widens as he watches you writhe in pain, the hook still embedded in your pussy. He takes a step back, admiring his handiwork, and then reaches for a small, black case on the desk.
Inside, you see a collection of needles, glinting in the cold light of the room.
His eyes never leave yours as he selects one, long and thin, with a wicked curve at the end. You can feel your body tightening around the hook, your muscles spasming in a futile attempt to push it out.
"This is for when you're feeling particularly uncooperative," he says, his voice a dark purr. He takes the needle between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently.
"But I suspect you're going to be feeling quite cooperative very soon." He brings the needle closer to your pussy, the curve lining up with your clit.
You can feel the sharpness of the tip against your swollen flesh, and you fight the urge to beg him to stop.
But you won't give him that power.
With a swift, precise movement, he inserts the needle, the point piercing your clit and sliding deep into your pussy.
The pain is like nothing you've ever felt before, a searing agony that makes you want to pass out.
You scream, your body jerking against the chair, but he holds you steady, his grip unyielding. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal.
"Take it like the good little whore you are." He starts to move the needle, twisting it inside you, the curve scraping along your inner walls.
Each twist sends a fresh wave of pain through you, making you want to vomit.
The mafia boss steps back, admiring his work, as you sob and whimper in pain. "You see," he says, his voice almost gentle, "It doesn't have to be this way. Tell me what I want to know, and I can make this all stop."
But you stay silent, your teeth clenched, your eyes squeezed shut.
He sighs, the sound filled with disappointment. "Very well," he says, his voice cold again. "But you're going to wish you had talked sooner."
He selects another needle from the case, his eyes never leaving yours.
He brings it to your pussy, the tip hovering just above your clit. "I'll give you one more chance," he says, his voice a deadly whisper. "Tell me who's been fucking you, and maybe I'll go easy on you."
You remain silent, your chest heaving with the effort of holding back your screams.
With a shrug, he pushes the second needle in alongside the first, the sensation of the sharp points tearing through your tender flesh making you want to pass out.
The Russian's eyes darken as he watches your silent defiance.
He starts to play with the needles, twisting and moving them with a precision that speaks of practice and skill. You bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood, trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pain.
"So stubborn," he murmurs, his voice a mix of admiration and anger. "But you'll break eventually." He grabs another handful of needles, his eyes traveling over your body, considering where to insert them next. You can feel the cold sweat trickling down your back, the pain making your vision blur.
The mafia bossâs hand moves with the precision of a surgeon, inserting needle after needle into your pussy. Each one sinks into your flesh with a sickening pop, the pain so intense you feel like you're being torn apart from the inside.
You're a pincushion of pain, each movement sending a fresh wave of agony through your body.
The needles are inserted at different angles, some going deep while others skim the surface, the varying depths creating a tapestry of torment that makes you want to scream.
Then the Russian's hand moves with a newfound fervor, the needles sliding into your flesh with an eerie grace.
The hook remains lodged deep inside you, the spikes scraping along your swollen walls as he twists it in a sickening rhythm that matches the insertion of the needles.
The pain is so intense, it feels like your entire body is on fire, your pussy a focal point of agony that threatens to consume you.
You feel the wetness of your blood mixing with the lubricant he's used, creating a macabre dance of red and clear fluids that dribble down your thighs.
He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "You're mine," he whispers, his voice a dark promise. "You've always been mine, and you always will be."
His words are a knife, twisting in the wound of your soul, as he adds another needle, the metal scraping against the hook with an almost musical sound. You can feel the sharp points digging in deeper, the pain an almost tangible presence in the room. "Tell me," he says, his voice a gentle coaxing that makes your skin crawl. "Tell me who's been fucking my wife."
The mafia boss slightly smirks, stepping back from you, as his eyes gleaming with a twisted excitement.
He reaches for a small, red canister on the desk, the label written in a language you don't recognize.
You know what it is, though; you've seen it used in interrogations before. It's a can of lighter fluid, and you know what he's planning.
He douses the needles and the hook with the fluid, the harsh smell of the gasoline-like substance filling the room.
Your heart races, fear mixing with the pain as he takes a step back and flicks open a lighter.
The flame dances in the air, the light flickering over the needles embedded in your pussy, making the metal glint ominously.
"This is your last chance," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me, and I'll make it quick."
The flame hovers near the needles, the heat making your skin crawl. You clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the unimaginable agony that's about to come. "Who have you been fucking?" he demands again.
But you stay silent, your resolve unbroken despite the hell you're enduring.
With a snarl of frustration, he brings the flame closer, the heat growing more intense until it's almost unbearable.
You can feel your skin blistering around the base of the needles, the smell of burning flesh making you gag.
The mafia bossâs hand hovers over the needles, the flame reflecting in his eyes. "Fine," he says, his voice cold. "You want to play the martyr, I'll give you a performance to remember."
In one swift motion, he presses the lighter to the needles.
The fluid catches fire, the heat searing through your pussy in an explosion of agony that makes you arch off the chair.
You scream, the sound echoing through the room as the flames dance along the metal, the heat spreading through your insides like molten lava. The mafia boss watches you burn, his expression a twisted mix of anger and fascination.
The needles glow red-hot, the heat so intense it feels like your soul is being torn from your body. You can feel the flesh around the hook contracting, the spikes and needles digging deeper with each spasm of pain.
The flames lick at your tender flesh, the pain so intense that it's all you can focus on.
Your screams fill the room, a cacophony of agony and despair that seems to echo off the walls.
The mafia boss watches, his eyes alight with a perverse excitement as he sees you finally break.
Your body jerks and spasms against the chair, the ropes cutting into your skin as you struggle to escape the fire.
The needles are embedded so deeply now, the metal searing your insides as the flames dance around them.
The smell of your burning flesh fills the room, a sickeningly sweet aroma that makes your stomach churn.
ââââââââââââ
The flames from the needles flicker and die out, leaving behind smoking metal embedded in your burnt flesh. The hook remains lodged deep inside you, a constant reminder of his dominance.
Your body is a wreck, a canvas of bruises, cuts, and burns, a testament to the extreme lengths he's willing to go to break you. Your breathing is shallow and erratic, each inhale a battle against the pain that threatens to swallow you whole.
The mafia bossâs smile fades as he watches you slip into unconsciousness, your body a broken doll in the chair.
He sighs, his frustration clear as he puts out the last of the flames with a damp cloth. He's impressed by your endurance, by the sheer force of your will to survive and not give him what he wants.
But he's not done with you yet.
He can't be.
You're his, and he won't let you die until you're his again.
The mafia boss leans in, his breath warm against your cheek, as he presses a soft, almost tender kiss to your bruised and bloody lips.
The contrast between his gentle touch and the agony of your burnt flesh sends a shiver down your spine.
His hand moves to the hook, gripping it firmly as he slowly pulls it out of you, the spikes tearing through your raw, swollen pussy with a wet, squelching sound that makes you whimper despite being unconscious.
The hook comes out with a final, sickening pop, leaving a gaping wound in its place.
"You're so stubborn," he murmurs, his voice a soft caress that seems to mock the pain he's inflicted on you. He carefully removes the needles one by one, his movements efficient and precise despite the anger that still lingers in his eyes.
Each removal sends a fresh wave of pain through your body, making you jerk and gasp even in your unconscious state. "But that's what I love about you," he says, his voice a mix of admiration and frustration.
The mafia boss sets aside the bloody needles and hook, reaching for a first aid kit that seems out of place in the room of torture.
He cleans your wounds with a gentle touch, his fingers deftly applying ointment and bandages to the burns and cuts. You can feel the coolness of the medical supplies against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the flames that had just been there.
He seems almost disappointed that you're not awake to see his 'care' for you, his eyes lingering on your bruised and broken form with a disturbing mix of love and anger.
"You're going to be okay," he whispers, his voice a strange blend of sweetness and malice. "I'll make sure of it."
He tapes the last bandage into place, his eyes lingering on the gaping hole where the hook had been. His thumb traces the edge of the wound, the pad of his finger coming away sticky with your blood.
He brings it to his lips, tasting you, his eyes closing for a brief moment before he opens them again, the anger in them burning like the embers of a dying fire.
You're vaguely aware of the pain as he tends to you, the fog of unconsciousness lifting slightly.
Each touch feels like a brand, a reminder of your submission to his will.
He wraps you in a blanket, lifting you with surprising gentleness from the chair, and carries you to a cot in the corner of the room.
He lays you down, his hand brushing through your hair, his touch surprisingly tender. "Rest," he says, his voice a command wrapped in a velvet glove. "You'll need your strength for tomorrow."
The mafia boss locks the door behind him with a final click, leaving you alone in the cold, sterile room.
The cot is hard and uncomfortable, but it's the closest thing to relief you've felt in what seems like an eternity.
Your eyes fully drift shut, the darkness behind your lids offering a temporary reprieve from the horrors you've endured.
But sleep doesn't come easy.
The pain keeps you on the edge of consciousness, a constant reminder of the hell you're in.
Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss
⥠Main Story. đ"I trusted you, wife, and now I'll teach you what betrayal feels like."
Headcanons 1 : The Bride of Blood (General)
To him, you're perfect. To you, he's just a mission.
đ"I don't need your love, I need your submission."
Novella 1 : The Enemy In His Bed
âïžđ"I trusted you, wife, and now I'll teach you what betrayal feels like."
There is no safe word. There is no escape.
⥠If you think Reader is stupid or she should have done something else. If you believe that, then I recommend reading the second part, "There is no safe world. There is no escape." It'll answer and clarify a lot of your questions about the world building in this story.
If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.
â€ïž Fang Dokja's Books.
⥠Book 1 [you are here]. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology
⥠Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.
⥠Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.
⥠Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.
⥠Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.
⥠Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarianâs Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.
⥠Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblrâs link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with cautionâthese tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.
#yandere mafia#yandere mafia boss#yandere boss#mafia x reader#mafia boss#mafia romance#mafia au#smut#shameless smut#yandere smut#smut x reader#yandere x reader#yandere oneshots#male yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere#male yandere#obsessive yandere#possessive yandere#tw yandere#yandere male#yandere male x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere blog#yandere romance#yandere boy#yandere oneshot#yandere crime boss
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Crawling Back to You- Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader
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summaryâ you overhear a conversation rafe has with his kook friends and get your payback.
warningsâ angst, arguing, sub!rafe, oral(f receiving), Y/N standing on big business!
a/nâ based off rafeâs conversation about sofia in s4 ep 3 I listened to Do I Wanna Know? by Artic Monkeys to get this idea <3
You were heading over to Rafe and his friends when you overheard it- him badmouthing you to them. It was casual enough, but his words cut deep.
âIâm not living with a pogue. Just âcause weâre together doesnât make her my girlfriend,â he said, his voice laced with arrogance.
You froze just around the corner, your breath catching in your throat. Your heart sank. Was that how he really felt about you? Was everything between you a lie?
You couldnât listen to any more. Turning on your heel, you rushed back to his house, your mind swirling with hurt and anger. You collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. Part of you wanted to scream, but instead, your body gave in to exhaustion, and you drifted off into a restless sleep.
Hours later, you woke to the feeling of lips pressing against your neck. Rafe was back, sliding into bed beside you, nuzzling your skin like nothing was wrong. You stiffened, jerking awake, your emotions still raw. Without a word, you slipped out of bed and went straight to the bathroom.
Confused, Rafe sat up. âHey, what's wrong?â he called out, his voice heavy with irritation, but you ignored him. The hot water from the shower didnât wash away the sting of his words. As you got dressed and headed into the kitchen to make something to eat, Rafe followed close behind, his frustration building.
âWhat's going on? Why are you ignoring me?â he demanded, standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he watched you move around the kitchen like he wasnât even there.
You gritted your teeth, his words from earlier still echoing in your mind. Every second that passed without you acknowledging him only made him angrier.
âLook at me!â he snapped, stepping closer. âSay something!â
You paused, your hand tightening around the spatula, and then you spun around to face him. âOh, so youâre not living with a pogue, huh?â
Rafe blinked, caught off guard. âWhat are you on about?â
âStop bullshitting me, Rafe. I heard you,â you snapped, your voice trembling from both anger and hurt.
He stiffened. âWere you spying on me?â
That was it. You snapped. âShut the fuck up, Rafe! Stop deflecting!â you yelled, your voice raw with emotion. âYou wonât have to worry about living with this pogue anymore, since Iâm not your girlfriend. Iâll make it easy for you.â
You turned, storming up the stairs toward the bedroom, your heart pounding as you began to pack your things. Rafe was hot on your heels, his voice almost desperate now.
âWait, no, please! Donât go,â he pleaded, his voice wavering as he reached for your arm. âI didnât mean it. I need you, okay? I need you.â
You kept packing, refusing to look at him.
âI donât care if youâre a pogue. Thatâs not what I meant! Youâre⊠youâre everything to me. I just-â He cut himself off, his eyes glossing over, the panic clear on his face. âPlease donât leave. Iâll do anything.â
You stopped, finally turning to look at him. The sight of him, almost on the verge of tears, was something youâd never seen before. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by fear.
But it wasnât enough. Not yet.
You scoffed, shaking your head. âYou donât get it, do you? You canât just say whatever you want and expect me to stay. You made your bed, Rafe. Now you can lie in it.â
He stood there, hands clenched at his sides, begging you with his eyes.
âPlease baby, Iâll do anything. Youâre all I have.â
You turned to him, your expression unreadable. He was rambling, his voice shaky as he begged you not to leave, but you cut him off with a cold, calm voice.
âGet on your knees.â
Rafe blinked, shocked, as if he hadnât heard you right. âWhat?â
âI said get on your fucking knees,â you snapped, your voice sharp as you snapped your fingers. âAre you deaf or something? Do what I said.â
Hesitantly, he sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. You stared down at him, his desperation clear in his face, his usual arrogance wiped clean.
âNow beg me to stay,â you ordered, your voice dripping with disdain. His lips parted, his face red with humiliation, but he did as you commanded. From across the room, he started to beg, pleading with you not to leave, telling you how sorry he was, how he didnât mean anything he said.
âCrawl to me,â you demanded next, and without hesitation, he obeyed. Slowly, he crawled across the floor to where you stood, his hands gripping your legs, holding on as if you were the last thing keeping him afloat. He kept begging, his words desperate, pleading for you to stay with him, calling himself stupid, apologizing over and over again.
You laughed in his face, a cold, mocking sound, and his face turned red, embarrassment flooding his features.
âIf you really want me to stay, then show me how sorry you are. Eat my pussy like you mean it,â you ordered, your voice cutting through his humiliation like a knife. âMake me cum, and maybeâmaybe Iâll stay.â
His eyes widened at the command, but he didnât hesitate. As you lay back on the bed, Rafe knelt between your legs, his lips immediately working against you, trying to show just how desperate he was to keep you there. His mouth moved with a fervor youâd never seen before, but even though it felt good, you held back, refusing to let him know just how close you were.
âPlease,â he begged, his voice muffled as he continued. âPlease, baby. Cum for me. Iâm so sorry.â
Finally, you couldnât hold back anymore. Your body gave in to the pleasure, and you came, his name on your lips. He looked up at you, relief washing over his face, as if he thought he had won.
âYouâre gonna stay, right?â he said, his voice breathless, almost shaking. âThank you, baby. Iâll neverââ
But you cut him off with a harsh laugh, sitting up and pushing him away. âYou really think that was enough?â you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. âYou really think Iâm gonna fucking stay after what you said? That you can disrespect me behind my back and Iâll just forgive you because you ate me out?â
His face fell, the realization hitting him hard. You stood up, wiping yourself off, completely unfazed by the look of devastation in his eyes.
âIâm done, Rafe. Iâm not gonna look like a fool staying with you after what you said. You think Iâm gonna let you disrespect me again? Fuck your entitled, spoiled ass. My dream man would never treat me like this.â
Rafe was on his knees, tears brimming in his eyes, but you didnât care. You were sick of him, sick of his bullshit. âStay by yourself,â you spat, grabbing the last of your things. âSince you scrutinize pogues so much, you can live your lonely life without one because thatâs what Iâll always be.â
He was still on the floor, almost in tears, as you zipped up your bag and headed for the door. Even as you walked away, he was clinging to your legs, still begging, but you ignored him. You pushed him off, and finally, he let go, left kneeling on the floor, pathetic, broken, and aloneâas you walked out of his life for good.
#rafe cameron x pogue!reader#rafe cameron x reader smut#rafe cameron smut#sub!rafe#sub!rafe cameron#rafe cameron one shot#rafe cameron x black reader#rafe cameron x black!reader#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron x reader angst#outer banks 4#outer banks smut#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks season 4#rafe outer banks#drew starkey smut#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#outerbanks rafe#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut
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"Are You Blushing?" A SKZ Imagine
Pairing(s): bf!SKZ x reader
Content: Fluff, Established Relationship
Warning(s): 18+ (MDNI), tooth-rotting fluff, Iâm talking MAJOR simp levels here (itâs mutual), explicit language, allusions to getting freaky, one (1) bulge mention.
Word Count: 2k
Summary: A snippet of how you fluster bf!SKZÂ
A/N: This all started with a little thought about Felix and those damn freckles, but it quickly grew into this whole imagine! I hope you enjoy and let me know if any of these would make you blush~
 My masterlist đ
Chan
~Is it hot in here, or is it just you?~
Barefaced, curly hair, and comfy clothes is your favorite version of Chan and youâre quick to let him know this fact. âYou know if you were a fruit, youâd be a fine-apple Channieâ you wink exaggeratedly and shuffle your laptop over when he cuddles up next to you on his bed for a movie night.
Chan shakes his head and chuckles, âWhat are you trying to butter me up for, babygirl?â. You bat your eyelashes and shrug, âJust stating facts my love, youâre so handsome I canât help myself.âÂ
âTime to kick things up a notchâ you think and pretend to fan your face âIs it hot in here? Or is it just you?â. Youâre delighted by the red flush thatâs steadily taking over Chanâs face as he giggles, and you rack your brain for another line thatâs sure to make him squirm.
âIf you look this good in these clothes, you must look even better out of them?â you whisper into his ear. The effect is exactly what you hoped for, Chanâs face is completely red now and heâs full on laughing which sends you into a laughing fit as well. âBaby where did you get all of these pick-up lines from?â Chans asks.
âThatâs for me to know and for you to never find out, my loveâ you say and press your lips to his for a sweet kiss. Chan doesnât miss the chance to deepen it, teeth nipping your bottom lip and tongue sweeping past to soothe the sting. He kisses you until you're breathless and then separates just enough to say, âNow, what movie should we watch?âÂ
Minho
~Hungry? I ordered your favorite~
âItâs just been a rough day, JagiâÂ
âI didnât mean to snap over the phone earlierâ
âIâm sorry.âÂ
You look up from the text thread you have with your boyfriend when you hear the door to the apartment close and the shuffling of keys and shoes. A minute later, an exhausted Minho slinks into the living room and stops in his tracks when he spots you standing there waiting for him.Â
âHey Min,â you start hesitantly, âI know today was rough, so I had Sungie let me in earlier so I could take care of youâ. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly and continue, âIt wasnât much, I just folded some laundry and tidied up a bit.â
Minho just stares at you, unblinking as your nervous rambling continues.Â
âOh! And I picked up some dinner from that place you like around the corner! I wanted to make something, but you threatened to feed me to the cats the last time I tried to cook in your kitchen.âÂ
Feeling awkward with the continued silence on Minhoâs end, you shuffle your feet and meet his eyes. You think you spy a sheen of wetness, but strong arms sweep you up into a crushing hug before you can double-check. You sigh in relief and squeeze back just as hard.Â
The two of you stand there, wrapped up in the warm embrace for several minutes, until you feel every bit of tension leak from Minhoâs frame and he strokes a hand through your hair.Â
âThank you, Jagiâ he whispers and cups your face in his hands. His eyes are impossibly soft as they gaze at you and his cheeks are dusted with pink. âAnd youâre right, youâre not allowed to cook for me ever again.â
Changbin
~You look a little tense, want a massage?~Â
Changbin just got out of the shower after a morning gym session with Chan and you already have him pressed against the bathroom counter. Steam curls in the air around you and fogs the mirror a bit, but you can see the way his cheeks grow redder by the second as your hands snake their way up his sides and towards his chest.Â
âL-Lovie, what are you doing?â Changbin stutters. You peek over his shoulder and watch your reflection as you squeeze his pecs, grinning when your dwaekki squeals. âI bet youâre sore, Binnie-baby, I wanna help you relax with a massage.â you purr into his red little ears.Â
âI have been lifting heavier recentlyâŠâ he murmurs. With a quick kiss to his hot cheek, you go back to your âmassagingâ. Changbinâs skin is still damp and slippery from the shower so your hands glide easily across his skin. You take your time, slowly kneading up his back while Changbin grunts and groans. You slip your hands around to his tummy and canât resist grabbing and squeezing again.Â
âAh! What kind of massage is this?â Changbin whines loudly, but just as heâs opening his mouth to complain again, your sneaky fingers undo the towel thatâs wrapped tightly around his waist and begin creeping south.Â
âYou donât like it?â you pout and move as if youâre pulling away. Strong hands grab your wrists immediately as Changbin tugs your hands back to where they were, âWait lovie, please! Keep going!âÂ
Hyunjin
~Can I do your makeup?~Â
Gentle music plays from your phone and the fairy lights strewn around your bedroom plus your favorite candle burning create an intimate and cozy atmosphere. You flutter around excitedly, gathering all the makeup items you need to give your boyfriend a makeover.
âIâm going to make you look like a fairy prince!â you chirp and climb into his lap, already reaching for a primer. âI donât doubt it, my princessâ Hyunjin smiles and rests his hands on your hips, eyes closing as he leans back against the headboard and enjoys your gentle touch.Â
A comfortable silence follows, just the soft notes of your background music and the rustling of the sheets as you work your magic. You grab a colorful eyeshadow palette and grin, âNow for the exciting part! Look at me Hyunjinnie?âÂ
Hyunjin hums an affirmative and opens his eyes, making direct eye contact with you. This close, he can feel the soft puff of your breath on his lips, could count every eyelash as you concentrate on whatever youâre doing, and he feels his heart skip a beat. Youâre just so pretty up close in this soft lighting, and the proximity plus your intense focus on him has his cheeks flushing.Â
You take a moment to check your work but immediately throw your head back and laugh, âHyunjin! I haven't even put any blush on you yet!â
Jisung
~How many licks does it take to get to the center?~
A crash can be heard from the other room, followed by a string of curses, then thundering footsteps rapidly draw closer. âBabycakes have you seen my-â Jisung trails off and his eyes widen as he takes in the scene in front of him.Â
âSeen what, sweet cheeks?â You tilt your head and give him your best innocent look from where youâre sitting on the kitchen counter with your favorite flavor lollipop dangling from your mouth. You drag it out ever so slowly with a pop, then put it right back inside and swirl your tongue around the candy obscenely. You hum happily and admire your boyfriendâs dumbstruck expression.
Even from several feet away you can see the blush spread across his cheeks and a growing bulge in Jisungâs pants. âHook, line, and sinkerâ you smugly think to yourself, âThe studio will have to wait.â
âFuck babycakes, I donât even remember what I was looking for,â Jisung groans and quickly makes his way over to you. In a blink his hands grip your thighs and he shoves himself between them. Big round eyes, half-lidded already, meet yours as he grabs the lollipop stick and tugs it free from your mouth.Â
âCan I have a taste?â
Felix
~Did you know freckles are also called angel kisses?~
Shrieks and giggles echo around the apartment as you chase your boyfriend into the living room and tackle him onto the couch. âJust let me show you, Lixie!âÂ
âNever!â he cries and attempts to wiggle out from under you.
A short tickle fight ensues until, âOkay! Okay, I believe you, mercy please!â You grin triumphantly down at Felix and settle your weight on his hips to keep him pinned. Truthfully, he could get away if he wanted to, but you both know Felix loves when you manhandle him a bit.
âStay still, I have to make sure I get every single freckle,â you say as you rain kisses across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, loud and obnoxious on purpose to make him giggle and draw that big toothy smile again. You move up to his forehead, followed by each eyelid gently, then the tip of his cute nose. Finally, you press your lips to his softly for a chaste peck once, twice, three times and his lips chase yours as you pull away.
âI think you got every one, angel,â Felixâs eyes shine with adoration as they look up into yours, his cheeks flushed the most beautiful shade of pink and his glossy black hair a mess on the cushions beneath him.Â
But the longer you admire him, the more a devilish smirk starts to take over and he casts his gaze down his body slowly, âOn my face at least. I think you might have missed a few down here though⊠Letâs check just to be sure.â
Seungmin
~Did you get my note?~
âHow many of these did you hide in my room sweetheart?â Seungminâs voice is muffled from where heâs digging through his closet. âThis is the last one Minnie, maybe you should check the hoodie I left you?â you giggle and flip onto your stomach, stretching out across your hotel bed.
Sure enough, Seungmin pulls out a pink origami heart from the pocket. He comes back to his desk where his propped up phone displays your face, and rolls his eyes as he drops the note in front of you. âHow can you be so annoying from so far away?âÂ
His grumpy act doesnât last long, a small smile creeps onto his handsome face while deft fingers undo the heart. He reads the note slowly, then glances at you and reads it again. Your eyes are glued to the screen of your phone and you watch the prettiest pink blush spread across your boyfriendâs cheeks.
âAll it takes is me confessing my undying love to make you blush, puppy?â you coo. âShut it!â Seungmin groans and hides his face behind his hands. You canât help but cackle at how shy your boyfriend gets when youâre being sappy.Â
After a few moments Seungmin lowers his hands and reluctantly meets your eyes through the screen, âI love and miss you too, your flight leaves in the morning, right?â.Â
âYeah,â you sigh happily, âCanât wait to see my puppy.â Â
Jeongin
~Is that my shirt?~
Soft morning light filters through the curtains and as quietly as you can, you slip from the sleep-mussed sheets and look around for something to wear. You huff at the mess of yours and Jeonginâs clothes strewn around your room and just pull on the first shirt you see and some fresh panties.Â
Jeongin is still snoozing away peacefully and you canât help but take a moment to admire his fluffy hair and the marks you left on him after your wild night together. âA performance like that deserves a feast for breakfastâ you think to yourself.
Youâve only got the coffee started and the rice washed and in the rice cooker before your sleepy boyfriend shuffles into the kitchen. You turn away from the sink to find Jeongin, in just his sweatpants, frozen in place as he looks you up and down. Legs bare, hair messy, and he can make out the edge of his bite mark on your inner thigh where itâs peeking out from under the hem of his shirt.  Â
âHey Honey-Bun, howâd you sleep- WHOA!â Jeongin has crossed the room and scooped you up into his arms before you can even finish. You scramble to wrap your legs around his waist as he quickly makes his way back to the bedroom. âWhat are you doing?!â you screech.
Youâre tossed onto the bed and you stare wide-eyed as Jeonginâs flushed face and heated eyes come closer. âI think Iâll have breakfast in bed, babyâŠâ Â
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed my first SKZ fic, and happy birthday Yang Jeongin!
All writing content created here belongs to me (@staytinyweeniebeanie) and I do not consent to my work being reposted on other platforms without permission!
Reblogs and Comments are always welcome and highly appreciated!
Divider by @enchanthings
#skz#skz imagine#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids fluff#skz scenarios#stray kids ot8#bang chan x reader#lee minho x reader#seo changbin x reader#hwang hyunjin x reader#han jisung x reader#lee felix x reader#kim seungmin x reader#yang jeongin x reader#beanie writes!
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NATURE AND ANIMAL THEMED YANDERE ASK GAME.
đ·- I want you to be scared of me.
đȘ°- I'm scared of you.
đž- I want to take pictures of you without you knowing.
đ„- I want to lock you away from the rest of the world.
đ- I want to sting you with my love.
đȘ¶- I need to pluck away all other people in your life.
đČ- You are mine.
đŸ- I want to leave a trail into a trap for you to fall into.
đ- I want you to capture me.
đ·- You are the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my forsaken eyes on.
đŁ- You make me my true self.
đŠ- I want to be your prey.
đ
- I want to prey on you.
đȘŽ- I spy on you from behind the bushes. (or in this case. behind the screen)
đŠ- You are so innocent... little do you know the truth...
đȘ±- I want to gut you. You'd look so pretty with your guts all spilled out.
đŠ- Poison me.
đŠ- Your never getting rid of me.
đâđŠș- I want you on a leash.
đ¶- I want to be your pet.
âïž- Your own little message, your choice.
#ă»â„ă»love letters âĄ#NEW YANDERE ASK GAMEE WOOWWW#yandere things#yandere ask game#yan ask game#irl yandere#yandere princess#yandere tendencies#yande.re#yancore#yan coping#yandere#yanblr#irl yan#yan blog#yan#obslove#obslove blog#obsessive core#actually obsessive#obsessivecore#obsessive love#obsessive thoughts#obsessive yandere
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The Rat, Dead Dog.Â
The Rat, Dead Dog.Â
âIâve told you, itâs not me-â â You were trained to never fall under pressure, your pleas falling under his deaf ears. Another cut to your calf when he doesnât hear you forthwith giving up the information, it doesnât matter how desperate you sound, nobody is here to save you anymore. They canât trust you anymore.Â
Heâs trying to convince himself he doesnât feel bad, that heâs only doing his friends a favor. Getting rid of you for good - dispensing with the waste of the world, which unfortunately had to be you, didnât it? The only person that he thought he could trust, you bewitched him. The mask had slipped off because of you, the imperfections were perfected because of you. Now itâs only a cold shoulder - if heâd even give you that. âGive us the fucking information,â The use of your moniker is the way heâd gain your sultry glare.Â
Youâve been beaten and battered for days by Simon, and it still feels like months the longer his torture traverses. The metal of the chair you sit on starting to turn red with gore. You fear to lose yourself, if not for the keen rage that fumes, revenge written on its blemishes. âI donât have the information you want.â You never thought youâd be in such a position with him, a foolish hound falling victim to your framing. Â
Itâs surprising you werenât immediately cut off with another lash, the gash heâs continuously spread starting to reach your bone, you dread the stinging of your flesh, held back by a grunted-sob. For only a second you see his gaze soften with emotion he lacked, like he truly wanted to believe you, and by-god did he wish to - in the event that the threads didnât lead to you. He swallows.Â
Thereâs too much evidence against you, and his team. His own pathetic feelings arenât worth the risk of keeping you around, he doesn't think he could handle having you captive with them for long, holding a rat that was dressed up with a story just to use them, use him after everything that happened. The sight would haunt him if you werenât gone, the weight of his loved one turning out to be a spy, living in a room on base.
The depravity of reality sets on him now, painfully dawning on him.Â
He needs to dispose you. For everybodyâs sake.Â
His hand white-knuckles around the knife, your chest tightens while the behemoth starts to stand to his full stature - an unpredictable mongrel you can only imagine what is coming next, his dilating pupils trembling as he looks at you with terror. The task of your murder would save his mates, and eat him from the inside once he was finished. If there is no information you have to spout - you are better useful dead to them, they could get it themselves. âSimon..â There's no response from him. You are not needed anymore. Donât make it painful.Â
Yet youâre saved by the bell, his head turning as the call from the mohawk is made. Shouting for his arrival with urgency. You only look to the floor as footsteps echo, signifying his leave for the day. "Fuck you."
The gashes in your legs have pooled themselves and made home around your feet, cold air running along the insides of your flesh, and you shudder against your constraints - the feeling is enough to make you nauseous with the sensory you experience. Thereâs nothing for you to throw up anyway, if there was, it would be your intestines.Â
Your heart cinches, as you sit there with the thought of having to live with the fact youâve been framed, then to die known as the rat in 141, thatâs all youâll ever be now. Youâre just another damaged dog, youâve joined their cult of forever deprecating. Their muffled banter plays beside your ear as you weep.
Youâve accepted that your funeral wonât be made, that nobody will ever honor your death or mourn during it.
#call of duty#cod angst#cod x reader#simon riley angst#cod simon riley#cod mw2#call of duty modern warfare#cod modern warfare#cod mwii#does it hurt?
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like i do | jjk
â„ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader
â„ word count | 3.2k
â„ warning(s) | đ smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, standing missionary, finger fucking, thigh riding, established relationship, angst w/ a happy ending, possessive!jk, jealous!jk, mentions of infidelity, trust issues
â„ summary | request - Jk being a jealous husband, angst and smuttttt đ„čđ
â„ notes | for lovely anon. hope you enjoy đ un-edited, i'll come back and fix any mistakes later. also poor jimin. i love him but i always seem to make him suffer lol.
đ masterlist | inbox | AO3 đ
Eavesdropping.
Whether it was a stray conversation in a shop, or lurking around corners to see what others really thought of you, everyoneâs done it at some point.
Now, itâs a habit Jungkook tries not to encourage - much preferring upfront interactions and direct conversations - but that isnât to say heâs never eavesdropped before.
But the problem with listening in on conversations youâre not supposed to be is you run the risk of hearing something you wish you didnât.
And while it wasnât intentional by any means - he respects you too much to spy, even if the urge is there - he learns this lesson the hard way.
The first time it happens, heâs in the kitchen refilling his cup of iced coffee. Thereâs a squeal of surprise followed by a lighthearted giggle, the sound of shuffling limbs and a low grunt.
Everything in him freezes at the sound of your delight, gut churning.
He always works so damn hard to pull the laughter from the depths of your throat. And it stings that Jimin - his friend, his brotherâs attempts are effortless.
Itâs something so simple, and yet the effect itâs having on him is undeniable as Jungkook white-knuckles the handle of his mug and grits his teeth.
His jaw nearly cracks in two when he hears the softly murmured greeting, âItâs good to see you, baby.â
And Jungkook knows, okay.
He knows thereâs nothing romantic between the two of you.
If anything, youâre too alike. Twin flames of the platonic variety. Not only would it never work out, but you both feel nothing but familial towards one another.
For fuckâs sake, Jimin was there when Jungkook proposed. Was the one to encourage it, in fact. Has been nothing but supportive about your relationship even when others disagreed.
However, knowing something doesnât dampen the spark of jealousy.
Nor does it soothe the sharp flash of hurt threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.
Jimin has always been affectionate with you, and heâs always a touch too flirtatious. Itâs a part of who he is, and itâs one Jungkook would never ask him to dim. Jimin spent far too long hiding, pretending, stifling himself for otherâs comfort.
And Jungkook loves him as he is, encourages him to be his beautiful, authentic self no matter what. Expect maybe when it comes to his wife⊠for reasons heâs unwilling to examine.
All schoolyard flirtations aside, what bothers Jungkook most are the pet names. He can put aside his petty jealousy because he knows its unfounded.
Whatâs harder is dismissing the use of that little four-letter word: baby.Â
Itâs supposed to be his way of telling you how much he loves you. Special, intimate. A stand-in for the four-word phrase he whispers into the silk of your skin, tattoos into your heart with his lips.
The realization heâs sharing a part of you he thought all his own sits bitter on the back of his tongue, an acid burn eating through his throat until he canât find the words.
When you respond in kind with a soft, tender call a piece of him shrivels.
Standing in the kitchen adrift and lovelorn, Jungkookâs left with an empty longing he canât name and no where to place it.
You werenât together for more than six months before he proposed, knowing you were the one for him by the second date.
Maybe he moved too fast, was too receptive?
Growing up, heâd always been eager to move onto the next big thing, ready to jump head first. Some said that would come back to bite him in the ass. Was this the day?
Perhaps you regret saying yes so soon. Jungkook knows heâs not like other people. They need time to settle into their feelings like a house settling old wooden bones.
The last thing he wants is to make you feel trapped, suffocated under the weight of all his clingy, needy problems.
So he smothers the discomfort and walks into the living room. He shoots you a smile and inclines his head towards Jimin.
Thoroughly ignores the pulse of pain when he sees how cozy the two of you look cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled together with Bam at your feet.
That should be me.
Youâre the best thing thatâs ever happened to him.
He canât lose you.
Itâs there he silently vows to be less intense, less attached. Does his best to keep his hands to himself even though he wants to reach across the space between your bodies, and tug you into the cradle of his chest.
Bam picks his head up, cocking his ear to the side when Jungkook winces as Jimin reaches out to tug a lock of your hair, smirking around another purred baby.
Thankfully no one else but the dog notices his moment of weakness or the tension cutting through his shoulders.
Staring at his reflection, Jungkook tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and fiddles with his tie. The three-piece fits like a glove yet heâs never felt more uncomfortable.
He longs for soft cotton and baggy loungewear but tonight is important.
Itâs your first year anniversary.
Heâs had this night planned out months in advance; pulled all the strings needed to secure a reservation at one of the best five-stars in Gangnam.
Youâve been looking forward to it all week, and your excitement is infectious.
Only Jungkookâs mood sours as soon as he turns the corner to find you on the couch with company, dolled up and radiant. Jiminâs beside you, one leg crossed over the other and swirling a half-empty wine glass.
He says something too low for Jungkook to hear.
âJimin!â You titter behind your hand, the flash of the jewels on your nails catching the light. âSto-op! You nasty little freak.â
âWhatâre you doing here?â
Jungkook doesnât mean to snap but the inner turmoil spills over before he can shove it down.
Your eyes lose some of their softness, the happiness fizzling from your expression like champagne bubbles. Mouth pinching in at the corners, you narrow your eyes.
A lump grows in his throat.
âWhatâs got you so pissy, Kook?â you ask.
Jimin clears his throat, averting his gaze to the side as he mindlessly plays with the stem of the glass.
The frosty look Jungkook shoots him withers under your pointed glare. Shoulders sagging, he runs his fingers through his hair, unable to care about how much heâs fucking up the style.Â
âSorry Jimin, I⊠ahem. Anyway, are you gonna be ready to go soon?â
âMhm, just let me finish up here,â you trail off, motioning to the last few sips of your own wine. âWeâve still got some time before we have to leave anyway.â
Before Jungkook can respond, Jimin cuts in while twining an arm over your bare shoulders, cheek pressed sweetly to yours, âYou canât rush perfection, Kookie. Isnât that right, pretty baby?â
Itâs no surprise your anniversary ends in disaster; a fight so vicious it has you fleeing with an overnight bag, refusing to look at Jungkook let alone speak to him no matter how much he begs you to stay.
Leaving him alone in an apartment ringing with your absence, terrified this is the beginning of the end and thoroughly convinced heâs the worst fucking husband ever.
Itâs been several days of radio silence.
No amount of texting or calling gets you to answer. And itâs starting to get to him, going out of his mind with worry, with guilt. If only he hadnât said this, that, and the other.
If only youâd stayed.
Now, everywhere he turns, Jungkookâs forced to face the jealousy growning like a weed in his heart. And every day it gets worse; a stone crushing his lungs, a bottomless pit curdling his stomach.
He doesnât know where you are exactly, but his suspicions are proven correct when he nearly busts down the door to Jiminâs apartment only to have you invite him inside, stony-faced and silent.
The quiet doesnât last, broken by the awkward clearing of his throat as he avoids your stare.
âWhat are we even doing?â he asks.
Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline.
There are bags under your eyes and heavy lines around your mouth. You look like you havenât slept well. Jungkookâs gut clenches, bile bubbling up the back of his throat.
Itâs all my fault.
âIâm not sure what you mean, Kook.â
âPlease.â He refuses to acknowledge the plea for what it is. âI canât - I canât do this anymore.â His voice breaks, cracks in two, tears stopping up his tongue. âI need to know.â
Your eyes flash with confusion. âBaby?â You step closer, hand outstretched and shoulders relaxing. âWhat are you talking about?â
His intentions are pure, honest.
But months of simmering anger, of doubting everything about himself (again), of resenting the fact he resents you, resents Jimin at all, bubbles to the surface.
Heâs not proud of it, but Jungkook explodes; a match set to gunpowder.
âIâm talking about you and Jimin!â
âMe,â you ask, blinking owlishly, â-- and Jimin?â
Jungkook smiles, sharp and unpleasant. Bitter and disappointed. Grief makes him mean, nasty. âYeah, you and Jimin. Do you think Iâm stupid - were you just gonna keep fucking around behind my back?âÂ
âWoah, pump the breaks! What the hell are--â
âDonât even try to deny it.â
His eyes glint like shards of black ice, cool and assessing as he stares at you. Numb to the concern in your gaze, the purse of your lips. Heâs slipping - he knows heâs slipping. Can feel the grief stricken rage pressing in at the corners of his mind.
The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, and yet heâs helpless to stop the words pouring from his mouth. âDid you like watching me make a fool of myself?â
You sneer, arms crossed over your chest so hard it looks like it hurts, âYouâre doing that all on your own, Jungkook. I think you need to leave.â
âNo, no, come on. I want to know. Why did you marry me if you donât even want me, huh?â
Stalking closer, Jungkook corners you against the counter.
The smooth glide of his body is reminiscent of a large jungle cat, purely predatory. The uncomfortable thrill of it reflects through your gaze, the clench of your thighs.
Dark satisfaction curls low in his belly.
He asks, âDid he fuck you better, make you scream his name?â
âI donât know what youâre talking about but youâre being a fucking pig,â you say, shoving his shoulder towards the door. âNow I really think itâs time for you to leave. Come back when youâre not being stupid.â
Strong fingers clamp down around your wrist, and Jungkook tugs you into his chest. His free arm curls around your waist, pinning you to his front. The heat of your body canât drive away the sudden cold washing over him.
âLet go-â
âNo.â He watches as any retort dies on your tongue, your eyes meeting his head on for the first time. Whatever you see hooks in, refusing to let go. âIâm not letting you go.â
Shivering, you try to tug your arm free, âJungkook, please. Youâre starting to scare me.â
In lieu of a response, Jungkook dips his head, and inhales the scent of your hair. Dragging his nose down the length of your neck as the familiar perfume floods his lungs. Soothes the prowling beast caged in his chest.
A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through him into you, your nipples stiffening against him.
Jungkook sighs, âYou always smell so good, baby.â
The tension threaded through your frame releases, your edges softening until you rest against him fully. Shivers race down his spine when your breath tickles his ear.
You call to him softly.
He hums, nuzzling into the side of your head, âMhm?â
âCan you let me go now? Promise I wonât go anywhere.â
Jungkook pulls back to look at you for several long seconds. Unlatching his fingers, he watches as you flex your wrist. Then reaches up to tenderly curl the digits around your throat, transfixed by the sight.
A hook of arousal sinks into his stomach.
Yanks hard when you gasp at the push of his thick thigh against your pussy, your whine when he flexes the muscle. With a soft cry, you sag into his body while your hands fly up to plant themselves on his biceps.
âK-Kook!â
âMm, thatâs it.â
The bubble of emotions boiling under the surface of his skin is at odds with the satisfaction coiling in his belly, the interested twitch of his cock.
Jungkook rolls his thigh and works you along the length of it. The heat of you burns through the cotton of his lounge pants, so warm and soft and wet.
"Don't--" your protest trails off, smothered by your teeth as your eyes flutter in pleasure. "Hn!"
Shit, he wants to bury himself so deep inside youâll never forget the stretch. Ruin you so good with his cock you wonât dream of anyone else ever again. Heâd make you his and his alone.
Fingers tightening around your neck, Jungkook murmurs, âLet me hear you, baby.â
Unsuccessfully trying to ignore how good the friction is, you shake your head in denial. But thereâs no hiding how turned on youâre getting, panties sticky and thighs clamping around his.
Youâre absolutely soaked, evidenced by the growing dark patch on his leg as he grinds you into a sloppy mess.
âW-We canât, Jiminâs h-home.â
Mentioning the other man is a mistake, and you know that.
Jungkook sees the realization light up in your eyes seconds after he tenses, rutting up against you harshly. The bulge of his cock digs into the dip of your hip, throbbing in time with the labored heaves of his chest.Â
His kneecap catches, the sharp ridge smashing into your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, and Jungkook slaps a hand over your face before the wail escapes.
He knows heâs being rough, but the tears in your eyes soothe some of the hurt. And honestly, he canât bring himself to care overmuch, especially when your hips jerk against his.
âBetter be quiet. We donât want Jimin to hear us,â Jungkook snarls, âafter all, what would he think if he saw how bad youâre gagging for your husbandâs dick?â
Your indignant response is cut off by another muffled whine, his teeth sinking into the corner of your jaw.
A weak spot of yours - Jungkook abuses it to his advantage. Swiping his tongue through the layer of sweat that clings to your skin, the salt bursting across his tongue.
He groans.
âI donât give a fuck what you or Jimin think.â His breath puffs warm and moist over your ear, voice whiskey rough when Jungkook says, âYou married me. Youâre mine, baby, and I donât share.â
Relocating, his hand releases your throat and finds your hips. He slips under the mid-thigh hem of your oversized nightshirt, and snaps the waistband of your panties with a firm tug.
Pulling the fabric free from between your legs, he tucks the ruined fabric into his back pocket as a souvenir.Â
âK-Kook,â you say, voice warbling.
He hums, eyes glittering dangerously as his fingers brush over the top of your slit. Your clit jumps beneath the pad of his finger, swollen and throbbing.
When you hiss low between your teeth, he smirks, and bullies the little nub with rough circles until your hips shift from side to side.
âAh, shit, baby. Can you hear how sloppy your pussy is?â
Jungkook dips his fingers between your folds, playing with your gummy walls as he gathers your slick, teasing the rim of your entrance. The filthy squelches echo out into the otherwise silent apartment.
He preens, chest puffing up with pride, and says, âHe canât make you feel the way I do. Can he?â
Without warning, he slides two fingers deep inside to the third knuckle. Chuckles when you burrow your face into his shoulder, your nails dragging raised lines of heat down his arms as your walls give, fluttering around his thick digits as you adjust to the stretch.
âMm, you always take me so well, baby.â
You clench at the praise, and Jungkook pumps his fingers in reward, curling up to massage at the spongy patch of your g-spot. You whine, head tossed back and thighs shaking around his hand.
Pain shoots through the base of Jungkookâs spine, and biting back a curse, he reaches down to adjust his cock from where its trapped against you, swollen and leaking.
âYeah, youâre such a good girl.â
âPlease,â you whine before mumbling something else.
Jungkookâs not sure what it is, but figures itâs not all that important when your eyes roll back into your head and your hips twitch.
You start to bear down on his fingers, walls tensing and releasing.
âGonna cum?â Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, panting into your mouth and sharing breath as his eyes bore into yours. âFuck! Do it. Wanna feel you cum all over my hand.â
God, you look so good like this; eyes teary and brows crinkled, sweat-slick and mouth slack. A sight he never wants to be without. His sweet girl, his baby, his wife.
âYeah, thatâs it.â His fingers curl and pulse, pet and stretch. âNow open those pretty eyes.â
A hand curls around your jaw, tugs at your chin.
âLook at me,â Jungkook breathes.
Please.
He watches, greedy, as your lashes flutter, the lids weighted down by pleasure. Eventually, you manage to crack them open, and he ruts forward in response. His groan vibrates his lips as they smash into yours in a violent kiss.Â
You pull away with a gasp, slick dripping down your shaky knees. âI canât - hnggg - fuck, Kook!â
âTell me who you belong to.â
Heâs unforgiving in his demands, a cold fire burning in the depths of his eyes. His cock throbs, his hips trembling with restraint as he stops himself from rutting to completion against you.
His heart hammers against his ribs, and his stomach swoops.
The answer will either make or break him.
Anticipation floods the room with tension; hovering in the air like a word about to be spoken.
âTell me.â
âI -- you, Kook, Iâve always belonged to you,â you say, clenching down around him. âPlease.â
Capturing you with his gaze, Jungkook hooks a thumb into the corner of your mouth. All the hurt, all the doubts, all the rage bleed out of him like water tossed over the embers of a campfire.
Leaving behind the single-minded desire to give you what you want. What you deserve. Because youâre his and the only thing he wants to do is take care of you.
Love you like you deserve to be.
Like only he knows how to.
The taste of your skin is sharp and bright when his tongue flicks against yours, and he hisses into the plush of your mouth, âCum.â
Keening, your pussy throbs once, twice. Your belly contracts. And then youâre gushing wetly, a warm flood of slick soaking the palm of Jungkookâs hand, dripping down to puddle on the kitchen tile. Your walls ripple, muscles spasming as you shake apart in his arms.
Jungkook holds you through it, soothing the aftershocks as you slump into him - a marionette with its strings cut. Youâre cotton soft, cloudy. Head lolling on his shoulder when you look up at his profile with hazy eyes.
âShow off,â you slur when you catch the sight of his satisfied smirk, the puff of his chest as he stares at something behind you. âCanât believe you made me cum all over Jiminâs kitchen floor.â
The sound of a choked-off, slightly hysterical laugh comes from the entryway, âOh, I can. Just glad to see you guys finally made up. Now Iâm gonna go wash my eyes with bleach.â
#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x you#jungkook smut#jungkook fic#bts fic#bts fanfic#jungkook fanfic#bts jungkook#jungkook imagine
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" GIVE ME THE SWEETEST GOODBYE THAT I EVER DID RECEIVE " â peter parker.
MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ đ đ° .á NOTES: takes place during the events of the marvel's spider-man 2 game. WARNINGS: fem reader | established relationship | morning sex mention | mild exhibitionism | sex against a window.
"You forgot your lunch again." are words PETER PARKER has heard too many times. He spins in place, disengaging from his work to face you, his girlfriend, who so graciously conquered his paper bagged lunch and retrieved it for him like his knight-in-shining-armor.
"Knew I was forgetting something." he murmurs, receiving the sack from you and stealing a greeting kiss from your lips in the same motion.
"Yeah, you left in kind of a hurry this morning." you reply with an impish grin tugging at your lips, leaning your palms at the edge of his desk. You meet his eyes over your shoulder, noting his knowing smile.
He approaches you from behind, lowering his voice to speak in your ear. "Well, that's because someone wouldn't let me." The lunch crinkles as he sets it down, and he hesitates to return to his work when you're here clearly vying for some attention, bringing up this morning of all things...
"Oh, right, because it was all me." you retort sarcastically, breaking exchange of a look to spy on his monitor. You've got a good head on your shoulders, but the stuff Pete does has you at a loss. It's gibberish written across his screen that he no doubt understands and could teach a class on. The thought of his competency drifts your mind elsewhere to the more alluring traits he took on before he left for work. How curious his hands were traversing your body after waking up next to you, kneading your bare form under covers, tucking himself behind you with his morning wood until that confidence bought him some sleepy sex. You heat up, and bite your lip at the memory.
You snap out of your trance, and make more conversation before you excuse yourself so he can get back to work. "Where is everybody?" you ask, voicing your observation. Since you got in, you haven't seen anybody.
Peter pours some coffee into a paper cup, fixing it up how you like it. Steam rises past the rim as he stirs it, and he draws his hand up to suck some sweetness off of his index finger. Your chest jumps, the residual recollection of what it's like to be filled stings your insides. Shifting your weight from leg to leg gives you the subtlest of frictions, and you try to conceal your growing interest by averting your eyes. He brings you the warm cup, handing it to you gently as he looks out through the glass of his office to the lobby. "Harry gave them the rest of the day off. It was in preparation for some repairsâ" He glances at you during his explanation, and when you flash a questioning expression, he clarifies. "âer, for the particle accelerator. Apparently, there was some mistake with scheduling so Harry's out trying to get it sorted. I figured I should at least get something done while I'm here waiting it out."
You enter in a well-timed joke. "You should do me." Peter eyes you thoughtfully.
It was not a joke, and it was excellently timed.
"Did you know I've always wanted to fuck in yourâmmâoffice?" you ask, panting while he yanks you back on his dick. Pressed up against the window that overlooks the lobby, your breath fogs it up. Your hands brace flat against it, its temperature cooling your heated skin, indenting your perked nips.
Peter's chuckle through his nose sounds behind you, and it widens your intoxicated grin. "S'not just mine, baby. What's he gonna say when he sees your tit-prints all over the glass?" Some of the stuff Peter says really gets you, his words shooting straight through you as his dirty talk often does. You moan in response, sucking a breath through your teeth right after, biting your lip hard as he plows your pussy. His steady hands on your hips make sure you can't recoil too much and run away too far, he keeps you right where he wants you so easy.
"We could've kept more clothes on, Pete." you gasp, your tone reminiscent of admonishment even though you loved how he flicked your shirt up to squeeze your tits between the window and your body. Knowing him, he'd been waiting to do that since you walked in.
"Now where's the fun in that?"
"You sound like you wanna get caught."
"You think I haven't thought about showing you off?"
#tw exhibitionism#ch: peter#indy: drabbles#peter parker drabble#peter parker smut#peter parker x reader#peter parker x fem!reader#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#peter parker imagine#peter parker fanfiction#spiderman smut#spider-man smut#spider man smut#reader insert
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Deceiving a spy - Azriel x reader
Summary: Azriel thinks his mate betrayed him. Angst to fluff.
Warnings: lots of angst but in a good way, also very fluffy, torture, betrayal (but not really), reader gets hurt, mentions of death
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Azriel couldnât believe it, didnât want to believe it. For once in his life he hated the abilities he had as a spy, for he wouldnât be hearing how youâre betraying him now. Not only him, but the entire Night Court. He felt sick.
âIâll make sure to lead them the other way.â he heard you say to the Hybern soldier, eavesdropping from behind the wall. âGood. And make sure you have some more intel from that High Lord, or the king wonât be pleased with youâ the soldier answered.
Az could almost cry. But anger was the first feeling that overcame him. Never in his life would he even imagine you could betray him. His mate. He didnât know it was even biologically possible, deceiving your other half.
So Az did what he had to do, guided by duty but also anger, disappointment. The Hybern soldier was now gone, leaving you alone. He hid in his shadows, slowly trailing towards you.
You screamed when he grabbed your hands from behind, holding you trapped in his firm grip. You couldnât see who was behind you, but the smell hit you immediately. Azriel.
âExplain yourselfâ he gritted out.
You were speachless, your blood turned into ice. No, no, no. This couldnât be happening. This didnât go according to plan. Before words could find you, before you could explain yourself, a panicked stream of tears fell from your eyes.
You felt Azriel wrap a rope around your hands. You could only panick. How could you ever explain yourself? Azriel turned you around. The look in his eyes was even worse. He looked at you with such hatred, full of disappointment. You started hyperventilating then, tears streaming down your face
âHow could you.â his voice was cold, the voice you only heard him use with enemies.
âAz, Az please..â you cried out.
He grabbed your arm harshly, the movement going against every instinct in him. You flinched in pain, not only from the firm grip but also from the pain in his eyes. Azriel felt it too, your feelings unconsciously going through the bond. A stinging feeling in his chest.
Suddenly you were somewhere else. Azriel winnowed you somewhere. His dungeon.
You started breathing heavily again, panicked cries leaving your mouth. You knew what Azriel did in his dungeon, you knew what kind of people he brought here.
âAz please, please donât hurt meâ you cried out.
Azriel felt like his heart broke into a million pieces. It pained him physically to see you like that. Him causing you pain, handling you so roughly. The look of pure terror in your eyes, you were scared. But you were the one that betrayed him, you were the one who didnât love him enough.
âHybern Y/N, Hybern for gods sake!!â he screamed, the inner conflict making him tug on his hair. He pulled you down on a chair, tying your legs to it.
âI can explain. Please let me explain. I love you.â you pleaded.
Azriel flinched again. âDonât say that.â You caught a tear falling on his cheek, but he quickly wiped it away.
âI do love you, baby, pleaseâ you whispered now, all your hope and energy leaving your body. âMy mate, my love, pleaseâŠâ Your head fell back against the chair in dispair.
âDonât lie to me, donât manipulate me even more. I canât⊠I canât handle it.â he choked out. Trying his best to ignore the ache in his chest when he heard you utter those loving words.
âIâm getting Rhysâ he decided. This was the right choice, he couldnât judge you fairly. Not when you looked at him like that. He was supposed to protect you. He was your mate. And now you sat there, utterly devastated. Still looking at him with so much love in your eyes.
It was all so conflicting. So Az winnowed away.
â
The moment Az explained everything to Rhys and Cassian, they immediately winnowed to the dungeon. But said dungeon was empty. Utterly empty. You were gone.
âWhat?â Az breathed out in shock. âShe was just hereâ
âYou think she escaped? Did you ever tell her how to get out?â Cassian asked.
âN-no, we barely talked about this stuffâ
Rhys frowned, âIâll try to reach her.â
âNo, she wonât answer Rhys, sheâs loyal to themâ Azriel shook his head.
But Rhys didnât answer, a focused look on his face. He started frowning. He seemed worried.
âWhat is it?â Azriel couldnât hide the worry in his voice, even after the unforgivable betrayal. He couldnât help but still care for you.
âThey⊠shit⊠they took herâ he sighed, nervously rubbing his jaw.
âWhat? Who took her? Where?â Azriel started pacing around nervously.
âHybern, they took her. They know. They found outâ Rhysâ voice was full of worry now.
âWhat did they find out?â Cassian asked confused.
âThat she⊠Shit AzâŠâ Rhys sighed, giving Az an apologetic look. âIâm sorry, you were wrong brother. She⊠sheâs a double spy. She was misleading themâ
Az was immediately drowned by guilt. Tears filling his eyes again. A blinding pain in his chest. You didnât do anything wrong.
And he⊠he didnât listen. He⊠tied you up.
And you were in danger now, he then realised. They had to move quick. The mood suddenly chanhed when he turned into action. Grabbing some knives and a sword from the wall.
âWhere is she.â he stated with the familiar lethal coldness of the shadowsinger. He could feel guilty later, but he had to move. Now.
âNot too far away, we need to be quick theyâre⊠theyâre going to torture her into talkingâ Rhysâ voice was pained too.
âThen what are we waiting for?â Az suddenly screamed. His brothers had never seen him like that. So uncontrolled, so desperate.
â
Even though you were in so much pain, you could only think about one thing. Azrielâs face when he found you. The torture from the Hybern soldiers was nothing in comparison to that face.
You would die in here. You would die with your mate thinking you betrayed him. And he will never know the truth.
Another hit from the lash hit your body. But you were out of screams, out of breath. You were tired. You just wanted to drift away. To fall into an endless dream where Az would be, ready to hold you and kiss you, to tell you everything was okay.
Your eyes fell closed when the torturing finally stopped. Maybe they finally took a break. You could almost feel Azriel, waiting for you in that dream. You could smell him.
âY/Nâ you heard him say. âY/N!â he said again, more panicked now. His voice, his smell, it made all your fears drown. Were you dead then?
âAz-Azzie, baby, Iâm so sorryâ you mumbled to the voice.
âOpen your eyes, baby, please,â you felt a scarred hand on your cheek, softly stroking it.
Thatâs when you opened your eyes. It was real, Azriel was really there. You werenât dead.
âAzrielâ you started crying in relieve. Your mate quickly started to undo your restraints. Thatâs when you noticed Cassian and Rhys, who were fighting the final soldiers standing.
They had come. They had come to save you.
When all the ropes where finally cut, you immediately fell into Azriels arms. You could only cry, wrapping your arms tightly around his body, burrying your wet face in his neck, breathing in his smell.
âIâm so sorry, so sorry, I- I didnât⊠It wasnât true, I didnât betray you.. I..â you tried to explain but you couldnât find the words.
âI know baby, I know. Iâm so sorry, I will never hurt you again, please forgive me sweetheart.â Azriel was crying now too.
He grabbed your face gently, his teary eyes looking into yours lovingly, but also full of guilt.
âYou didnât believe me when I said I loved you.â your bottom lip trembled.
Az stroked your hair gently. âIâm so sorry I didnât belive you. I love you so so much, my mateâ he cried out. He kept touching all over your face, as if trying to make sure you were really there.
âI love youâ he said again, pushing a soft kiss on your lips. You kissed him back more passionately. âI love you, I love youâ he kept repeating like a prayer in between the kisses. Grabbing you, holding onto you, scared youâll slip away again.
âAz iâm⊠I feel dizzy and my leg⊠it hurtsâŠâ you suddenly whined, pointing at your body. You were severely hurt, Azriel remembered again. Your eyes were lidded and you were pale.
âShit. Shit, shit.â he started panicking again. âRhys, we need a healer, immediatelyâ he cried out.
â
Youâve been unconscious for a day, mostly because of the pain killers. Az didnât leave your bed all day, holding your hand and waiting for you to wake up. He was flooded by guilt and disgust towards himself. Donât blame yourself, brother, you couldnât know, Cassian had said. But he should have known. His beautiful, sweet girl. You would never do this.
Azriel was shaken from his thoughts when he heard you moan next to him. He grabbed your hands tighter. âAzzieâ you mumbled.
âHey baby, hey, Iâm hereâ he reassured you.
A soft smile appeared on your lips, making his heart melt. You squeezed his hand back reassuringly.
âA-are you, are you still mad?â you whined, opening your eyes slowly.
âOfcourse not baby, no, no, donât ever think that. Iâm the one at faultâ Azriel whispered, his hands stroking your soft locks, trying to comfort you.
âI shouldâve told you. My plans about the spying.â you answered sadly. âDonât worry about that now, itâs all over now, youâre safe, weâre okayâ he smiled.
It was silent for a moment, you only looked into each others eyes. You patted the empty spot on the bed, signaling him to come lay next to you. Azriel gave in, wrapping his arm and wing around you protectively. You laid your head on his chest and he placed a loving kiss in your hair.
âIâve hurt you. You were scared of me. I canât believe I did that. I was so rough with you.â he whispered sadly, trying to hide the upcomming panick.
âI forgive you, baby, I really do. I get why you did it.â you mumbled, almost falling asleep again because of the comfort and warmth of his body wrapped around you.
âIâll never do it again. Iâll trust you more from now on.â he promised.
âMy love, you already trust me enough. I noticed how you held back, how you still cared for me. Even though it was a worst-case scenario. Our love still conquered it allâ you sighed, eyes falling closed.
âYou noticed?â he muttered.
But you didnât answer, he carefully looked down to see you asleep.
âSleep well my dear, Iâm here to protect you.â he whispered, kissing your forehead, before he fell asleep too.
â
#acotar#azriel#acotar x reader#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel angst#azriel x reader fluff#azriel fluff#azriel x y/n#acotar angst#acotar fluff
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finding freedom
words: 4.2k
warnings: emotion abuse (not from rafe), potential physical abuse (again not from rafe), friends to lovers, brief violence, brief mention of fatphobia/readers body size, soft!rafe (but he still punches someone bc rafe is gonna rafe)
âcan we please just not do this today?â you sigh, smoothing your hand down your freshly straightened hair, needing every strand to be set in place for midsummers tonight.
âiâm not doing anything, can you not be a bitch?â scott groans, fixing his tie in the mirror.
you sigh just quietly enough for scott not to hear. the start of your relationship was perfect. he never called you names or hurt youâre feelings, but that changed quickly, and now youâre numb to his insults. you love has faded into nothing, feeling like youâre more of a glorified maid than an actual girlfriend.
âi just donât want any problems at midsummers tonight.â you say. âthe whole town will be there.â at least everyone in the town whose approval you care about.
âi wonât start any problems if you donât.â scott says, walking out of your shared bedroom. you never should have agreed to move in with him so quickly, but you were getting tired of your parents overbearing nature, only for them to leave for florida permanently a month after you moved out, giving you no other option on where to live.
you check your teeth for lipstick in the mirror once more before following him out.
you ride to the country club in silence, scott staring at the road ahead while you gaze out the window, eyes turning glassy as you slip out of focus like you have more and more lately.
you arrive at the celebration, knowing scott wonât open the door for you. he hasnât in weeks. you step out, adjusting your dress that had ridden up from being sat down in scotts sports car.
you walk side by side with scott, instead of hand in hand. you wonder if people even know that youâre a couple. if they would ever suspect it when you certainly donât act like it.
âwhat do you want to drink?â scott asks, already eyeing the bar.
âi donât want anything.â you say, hoping that will stop scott from drinking too early as well, but instead he walks away, leaving you alone.
âhey.â a familiar voice purrs out as you turn around quickly.
ârafe!â a smile spreads across your face as you see one of your oldest friends. he quickly wraps you in a tight but still appropriate hug.
âno scott?â rafe asks, looking around hopefully.
âheâs um⊠already at the bar.â you laugh gently, feeling the awkward tension rise already. scott loves to have you all to himself, which caused you to lose touch with a lot of your friends, even rafe who you used to see at least every other day.
âalready.â rafe hums out, words stinging.
âyeah, i should probably catch up with himâŠâ you trail off, walking away leaving rafe looking at you with evident disappointment.Â
you find scott amongst the crowd, but donât bother making your way towards him as you spy kelce and his sister sat at a table in the corner.
âhey!â you smile and take the open seat.
âgirl, its been so long! where have you been?â kelces little sister asks.Â
âuh-â youâre about to make something up, when thankfully kelce saves you.
âoh shit, i love this song!â he hops up from his seat, chair clattering against the sun bleached hardwood. âdance with me, y/n?â
âyeah, sure.â you take kelces hand, happy that you seem to have slipped back into your natural rhythm as you dance, his hand high up on your waist to avoid any cries of indecency by the other attendees.
you dance with kelce through a couple songs before being passed off to one of his friends you donât know very well, but youâre happy all the say, laughing as the crowd of younger folk grows as the songs shift more modern.
ây/n, can i have your next dance?â rafe asks, scooping you away from your current partner with ease.
âof course.â you feel your cheeks blushing unwillingly from the way he holds you close to his chest.
âbabe, lets go home.â scott suddenly appears next to you.
you take an obvious step away from rafe, putting distance between your bodies for both of your sakes. âiâm not ready yet.â you say, attempting to keep your voice soft.
âwell i am. so come on.â scott grabs your forearm, pulling you away.
you manage to look back at rafe as you get dragged towards the door. âsorry.â you mouth, hoping he doesnât rush after you and cause a scene, even though you can see the anger on his features.
scott finally lets go when youâre out the door as you follow him across the parking lot towards his obnoxious bright yellow sportscar.
âgive me the keys.â you say.
âi can drive.â scott says, waving you off.
âyou are drunk!â âi said i can drive, woman!â scott shouts at you, ripping open the drivers side door and depositing himself in front of the wheel.
âthen im not going with you!â you yell.
âfine, stay here for all i care!â scott slams the door shut and doesnât even glance back at you as he backs out of the spot, wheels squealing as he leaves the parking lot.
âfuck.â you curse, heading back towards the country club. you make it to the front step before you even realize that youâre crying, tears escaping down your face. you quickly brush them away, hoping kelce or maybe topper or sarah can give you a ride home.
you take a minute to calm yourself before stepping back in, the atmosphere so different to how you feel inside.
you see rafe stood in front of the window to your right, clearly watching everything that went down in the parking lot.
ârafe-â
âare you okay?â he questions, head tipping forward, staring at you with intense eyes.
âi-â you clear your throat, holding back the tears as you force a smile on your face. âof course im okay.â
âi see the way he treats you. its wrong.âÂ
âweâre fine.â you shake your head, voice as loud as you can make it without cracking, yet still a whisper.
âdo you want to spend the night at tanneyhill? the guest bedroom is open for you always.â
âi-i guess that would be fine.â you shrug. âjust cause hes drunk. he⊠he isnât drunk often.â its a bold faced lie, yet you still tell it, covering for your boyfriend and dampening the anger still sketched across rafes brow.
âmhm.â rafe leads you back outside. he doesnât talk to you for the ride back to tanneyhill, but it doesnât feel the same as the oppressive silence that fills the car whenever youâre with scott.
âthank you. iâll leave in the morning.âÂ
rafe just nods.
--
you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at scott. âwell?â âwell what?â he questions, throwing his hands in the air.
âyou really donât know what today is?âÂ
âno, and you wonât tell me!â
âforget it.â you push yourself off the bed. âiâm taking the jeep.â you call out, not bothering to tell him where youâre going.
youâre not even sure at first as you drive around before you ultimately decide to drive towards the tennis courts. you have none of your equipment, but you can at least sit in the stands and watch others play as a way to pass the time.
âwhat are you doing here on your birthday?âÂ
you let out a squeal in shock, almost closing the door on yourself. ârafe! you scared the shit out of me!â âsorry.â he holds his hands up, wide smile on his face. âbut seriously, youâre playing tennis on your birthday?â
âscott forgot.â you blurt out. âso⊠i was just kinda driving around aimlessly.â you shrug.
âwell, let me take you out then birthday girl. lunch?â you realize after rafes suggestion how hungry you are and nod quickly.
rafe takes you out to your favorite restaurant, immediately telling the waitress itâs your birthday and youâll be having dessert first, making you giggle and roll your eyes as an ice cream sundae is brought out for you to share.
âhey.â rafe says, bringing you back to the tennis courts to pick up your car now that the sun has set, having spent the entire day together. âi got you a present.â
âreally?â you gasp. ârafe, you didnât have to!âÂ
âyouâre my friend, its no problem.â he shrugs, reaching into the backseat and handing you a thin wrapped box.
âoh my god, thank you.â you reach across the center console, pulling him into a hug before ripping into the colorful paper, eyes widening when you realize what you were just gifted.
âabsolutely not, its too much!â you lift up the beautiful gold bracelet, stone embellishments inlaid into the pattern.
âcome on, you deserve something beautiful today. let me help you put it on.â rafe doesnât give you any time to argue, taking the bracelet and slipping it around your wrist, fingers gently touching your skin as he clips it.
âi-i seriously canât thank you enough.â
âall i want in return is for you to be happy.â rafe says, looping your fingers together.Â
you squeeze them back, holding back your tears as you mutter a goodbye, promising to call rafe soon before heading back home to scott. any time you feel upset on the ride back, you just look at your gift and think of rafe.
âyou still donât know?â you call as you enter the house.
âitâs your birthday.â scott appears from the living room, handing you a gift bag.
âare you serious?â you follow him deeper into the house as he flops back onto the couch, eyes on the television.
âi got you a gift, what more do you want?â scott groans.
you canât help but laugh, a mean, bitter laugh as you look into the bag. âyouâve got to be kidding me.â itâs an eyeshadow palette with a $2.99 sticker on it. you donât care about the cost of gifts, but this is clearly something he just picked up from the dollar store with zero thought.
âits makeup. you like girly shit.â scott shrugs.
âyeah, thanks.â you say sarcastically, throwing the bag onto the coffee table as you stomp away. you hear scott following you, and you almost make it into your room before his hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you back towards him.
âwhat the fuck is your problem?â he shouts.
you want to yell back, want to scream in his face and let go of all your rage, but as his hold tightens on your wrist, you donât dare to speak up.
âi tried to get you something you liked.â he reasons.
âi know.â by some sick standards, he did.
âi can give you something else you like.â scott guides your hand to his crotch, placing it there before you snatch your hand back.
âiâve got a headache.â
âof course you do.â scott rolls his eyes, walking back down the stairs without another word.
--
âyou could have at least asked me before you agreed to dinner.â scott says, changing out of his sweatpants into an old pair of jeans.
âyou donât have to come.â you shrug, adding the bracelet rafe gifted you last, your favorite accessory to every outfit, no matter how casual. âits just gonna be rafe, topper and kelce.â
âof course im coming. you think im going to let you go out to eat with three men without your boyfriend?â âdo you not trust me?â you raise an eyebrow.
scott just shrugs, and leaves his answer at that, grabbing his car keys as you follow behind.
youâre the last one to arrive, a small apologetic smile on your face as the boys see scott following right behind.
the waitress comes to get everyones drink orders now that the party is complete. you order a lemonade, with scott getting himself a beer, as usual. you notice rafe gets just a cold glass of water, his eyes meeting yours from his spot across the table.
âalright, what can i get yall to eat?â the waitress pulls out a notepad and pen.
everyone orders for themselves until it gets to scott. âill have the stake, medium well. she will have a side salad.â
you furrow your brow, you never talked about wanting a salad beforehand. âum, actually iâll have the chicken parm.â
the waitress glances between the two of you before nodding and scurrying away.
âgod, youâre getting so fat.â scott says under his breath, yet you still clearly hear.
you wait a few minutes, attempting to listen to whatever sport kelce and topper are going on and on about, when the urge to cry becomes too overwhelming and you have to excuse yourself, walking towards the bathroom before slipping outside.
you are leaned up against the exterior of the building, chest rising and falling as you attempt to control all the feelings you have building inside of you.
âwhy donât you say anything to him?âÂ
âgod, rafe.â you place your hand on your chest. âyouâve got to stop sneaking up on me like that.â
âi heard what he says. i see the way he treats you, and i canât just sit back and watch that happen.â
âwhat am i supposed to do?â you look up at rafe in desperation.
âbreak up with him.â he says simply.
âwe live together. i-i have no place to go. this is a small island, and we have mutual friends. i canât just walk away and never see him again.
âso how long are you going to put up with it? because i am seconds away from smashing his face in.â rafes fist clenches in anger, like hes visualizing punching scott this very moment.
âi⊠iâll do it today. at home so i can get my stuff then iâll go to a hotel-â
âtanneyhill. youâll come to tanneyhill. i told you, the guest bedroom is always open for you.â
âthank you, rafe.â you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, allowing the minutes to stretch by as he holds you.
âlets get you inside, yeah?âÂ
you nod, allowing rafe to lead you back into the restaurant. scott has a suspicious look in his eye but stays silent.
--
âwe need to talk when we get home.â you say, scotts foot pushed down on the accelerator as he speeds home.
âwhat is there to talk about?â he questions.
âjust some things i want to get off my chest.â you leave it at that, returning to the silence youâve come to know well.
you can barely wait until youâre through the door before the words spurt out. âi want to break up.â
scott stands there with a blank expression, causing you to doubt whether you actually verbally said anything.Â
âi want to break up.â you repeat.
âno.â scott says, face flushing with anger.
âwhat do you mean no?â you question.
âis this because i called you fat? well, im sorry for that. i just think you could lose a little weight.â scott throws his hands up in the air like heâs the victim.
âi just canât take this anymore. iâm not happy. youâre not happy. why are we torturing ourselves?â âyouâre not leaving.â scott takes a step closer to you. âi wonât allow you to fucking leave.â
âscott, please.â you shake your head.
âyouâre mine!â he yells, bursting forward to grab your shoulders, pushing you against the wall as you let out a shriek.
your eyes closed, accepting that this is the time. this is when you will be hit. you just hope it doesnât break anything as you wait for your fate, but it never comes.
your eyes open to see rafe burst through the door, immediately accessing the situation and shoving scott away from you.
âwhat the fuck!â he shouts, charging towards rafe, but it's no use as rafes fist rises and meets his nose, knocking him onto the ground and out cold.
âare you okay?â rafe wraps you in his arms as your body crumbles, holding you up like your weight is nothing as you sob.
âi-thank you.â
âiâve got you. come on, lets go get your stuff. im taking you to tanneyhill.â
you nod, in a haze as you gather up your belongings, leaving behind anything that can be left as you get just the essentials, rafe helping you carry them out, even as you step around scotts still body, lying on the floor. you check to make sure his chest is rising and falling, and then donât look at him again.
--
âive never seen you so happy.â sarah laughs as you flit around the kitchen, making the biggest breakfast you can for the entire cameron family. eggs prepared in every way, toast, waffles, pancakes, anything and everything. itâs really all for rafe, your savior.
âwhat is there to be upset about?â you shrug. âiâm single!â
âand youre spending lots of time with rafe again.â she eyes you up and down as your hand shakes slightly pouring a glass of orange juice for wheezie.
âshut up.â you whisper, but the smile doesnât drop from your face, especially as rafe enters the room. you transformed in the night, the shackles of scotts emotional abuse finally falling away, allowing your true self to reappear.
âim taking you out to dinner tonight, y/n.â rafe says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
âyou havenât even had breakfast yet and youâre already thinking about dinner?â you laugh, shoving a plate full of his favorites into his hands.
âto celebrate.â he shrugs. âmaybe iâll convince top to throw a party.â
âugh, i really donât want to be around drunk people.â you admit. you want to celebrate, but preferably without alcohol at least for a month. rafe just nods, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before taking a seat at the island next to sarah.
âafter youâre done eating, you can help me look for an apartment or a condo.â you tell rafe. âmaybe i could ask ward about-â
âyou know you donât need to be in a rush to leave, right?â rafe interrupts you.
âyeah, but i donât want to take advantage.â you shrug.
âyouâre not.â rafe says, that serious, intense look back in his eye.
âokay.â you nod, soft smile on your face as he takes a bite of his waffle. you turn back to the stove as the timer goes off.
âoh, and maybe we could look for some place to move in together.â you glance back at rafe as he speaks, not caring that your bacon is getting crispier and crispier. âprobably time for me to leave the nest anyways⊠and thereâs no one iâd rather live with than you.â
--
âgosh, y/n, you can talk about something else.â rafe laughs as you launch into another discussion about what kind of house or condo you could move into together, what features youâre looking for and renovations you want to avoid.
âiâm excited!â you whine, taking another bite of your food.
âits cute.â rafe says, making you almost choke as you take a quick sip of your water.
âi just really canât wait to live together. itâll be so refreshing afterâŠâ you donât need to say his name, not so soon after.Â
âof course.â he nods. âdo you want dessert?â rafe asks, seeing the waitress walking over.
âmaybe we could split a hot fudge cake?âÂ
âhereâs another water, sir.â she winks at rafe, handing him another glass even though his is not even half empty. âand can i get you anything for dessert?â she leans down, feigning to be reaching into her apron for her notepad, but is clearly just showing off her chest.
âone hot fudge cake, two spoons.â rafe barely pays attention to her as she scribbles it down and walks away disappointed.
âwell, sheâs bold.â you huff, glaring at her back until she rounds a corner.
âjealous?â rafe smirks, making your eyes widen.
âi never said that!â
âmhm.â rafe takes a sip of his new water. âdonât worry, youâre cute when youâre jealous too.â
--
âreally, thanks for this topper.â you smile, accepting his hand as you step onto his family yacht, taking you and a couple friends, of course including rafe, out for a day on the water.
âjust happy to have my friend back.â he says. you feel so lucky to have such amazing people surrounding you, supporting you after your breakup and not holding the way you treated them while in your relationship against you.
you take a seat next to rafe as topper begins to pull the boat away from the dock, allowing your eyes to close and head to rest against rafes shoulder as you feel the sun warm your skin.
you lay like that until topper navigates the yacht into deeper waters for everyone to jump off and swim. you hang back for a moment, watching everyone throw in floating pads or inner tubes as you smile, feeling more relaxed than you have in months.
âready?â rafe asks.
âoh, yeah.â you pull off your coverup and jump into the water, laughing when you come up as rafe cannonballs right next to you.
you spend the next couple of hours in the water, only getting out to dive right back in. you swim around with rafe, but manage to break away from his attention to talk to your other friends for a bit as well.
your stomach rumbles as topper calls for lunch, having packed sandwiches into the fridge in the yachts kitchen before you left. you sit on your towel on the deck, rafe bringing you back a sandwich and bag of chips as everyone begins to talk.
you watch happily, content to sit back and just be in the moment. you tense up slightly when topper brings out a cooler of drinks, relaxing only slightly when you realize itâs only enough for everyone to have one or two beers or white claws and no one will be getting plastered.
âwanna head back in the water?â rafe asks when you're finished.
âactuallyâŠâ you look at one of your friends screaming as kelce scoops her up and jumps into the water with her in his arms. âwanna go lay on the sundeck?â âyeah.â rafe follows you away from the crowd until you reach the large white cushions and spread yourself over them, arching your back and stretching.
rafe sprawls out next to you, but turns himself to the side so he can look at you.
âi like you, y/n.â he says.
âi-â its so sudden, so forward, yet so rafe.
âyou donât have to say anything back. but you should know, especially if we are buying a place together.â you nod slowly, taking in his words. âi like you. and i want to kiss you.â
you just nod, a smile spreading across your cheeks as rafe moves closer, placing his hand on your cheek as he leans down, lips pressing against yours.
youâre elated for a moment, until your nose catches the smell of alcohol and you freeze, realizing thereâs still the sticky sweet taste on his lips as youâre suddenly transported back to feeling what itâs like kissing scott.
you pull away suddenly.
âiâm⊠shit. iâm sorry.â rafe stands quickly before you can even process.
âwait!â you call out, legs feeling like jelly yet you force them to work, standing as you rush after rafe, but by the time you reach the main deck, hes taken off on one of toppers jetskis, heading towards home.
âwhat happened?â topper asks, seeing the tears in your eyes.
âwe-we kissed and-â you let out a sob. âi got a flashback of scott because of the beer smell and i pulled away and-â another sob racks through your body. âhe thought i was rejecting him but⊠i love him topper! i need to go and find him and tell him and-â âcalm down, okay? you canât do anything in this state.â topper places his hands on your shoulders, moving you to sit in a chair.
âeveryone back on the boat!â he yells, his tone unusually authoritative as everyone scrambles to get the floaties back into the boat.
the yacht moves faster than you thought possible as topper races back, knowing how important this is to you, and to rafe. heâs not going to let his friends miss out on true love just because of a misunderstood trauma response.
thanks to the slow jetski, you reach the dock only a minute after rafe. youâre off the boat and running after him before the lines are even secured.
âwait!â your feet slap against the wood until you reach rafe, grasping his wrist and pulling him to face you.
âjust-â rafe sighs. âlet me go, y/n. you can stay at tanneyhill of course just⊠i donât need you to reject me again.â âlet me explain!â you shout, taking a deep breath before continuing. âi wanted to kiss you, i swear. i just smelled the beer on you, and i got a flashback to scott. i got freaked out, it had nothing to do with you. im just⊠still recovering.â
âshit.â rafe groans, head tipping back at he stares at the sky for a moment, collecting his anger. âiâm so fucking stupid. of course you need more time, you just left him a couple days ago.â âno im⊠i like you too rafe. i know i need to heal, but i want to do that with you. i love you.â
rafes face turns briefly to one of confusion before a smile takes over. âim going inside to go use toppers mouthwash real quick then im coming back to kiss you. donât move.â
sfw taglist: @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight @ladyinbl00d
#rafe fic#rafe fanfic#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#soft!rafe#soft!rafe cameron#rafe fluff#rafe cameron fluff#rafe imagine#rafe one shot#rafe drabble#rafe blurb#rafe cameron one shot#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron blurb#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#rafe x oc#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x reader
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You can see how hurt Steb is, but it's most likely not physical.
Steb and Maddie were introduced at the same time, they approached Vi and Loris together. Maddie being much more open and talkative compared to Steb. And now, we know that Maddie is a Junior Officer when we first meet her and it's safe to assume the same for Steb. It's also safe to assume that Steb and Maddie are close due to their shared rank, they probably started training to be an enforcer at the same time based on this assumption. This would make them close, probably friends. Maddie is very clearly friendly while Steb doesn't seem to be the same, typical friend stuff imo, but she probably approached him anyways because she wanted or needed a friend.
A friend that she could fall back on incase people learn that there's a spy or a friend that she could push the blame onto incase that happens. Steb, someone who seems to keep to himself, would be the perfect person for that. It helps that most enforcers seem to be human compared to not, the idea of a spy would immediately cause people to point fingers at non-human enforcers like Steb. Maddie would know that, Ambessa would probably tell her to do something like that so she could keep her spy, and so she turned Steb into someone could either fall back on or stick the blame on. Either way, Steb is a backup plan for her. But first, she would have to establish a bond with him. So she did, making it seem like they truly were friends, best friends even.
When Maddie revealed herself to be a spy during that fight, it would hurt Steb. Maddie, possibly his only friend, betrayed him and played him like a cheap kazoo. It would sting, probably more than inhaling the gray. All because Maddie made it seem like they're friends, close friends at that. But now he's on his knees, most likely about to die after watching Maddie kill their captain/commander. That hurts, that hurts more than anything because Maddie clearly doesn't care about him or anyone else hence why she's a spy.
Not only that, but Steb probably feels ashamed. He can barely look Caitlyn in the eye, he immediately looks away from her the second they make eye contact. He probably feels like he's at fault for this, how could he not notice that his friend was a liar? Maddie was his friend, someone he knew well so how could something like that slip under his radar? Steb knows that Caitlyn most likely feels just as guilty for trusting Maddie but for Steb it would be worse. He knew Maddie longer, he should've picked up on the signs. It didn't matter how small or invisible, he should've picked up on it. Now his captain/commander was going to die because of him not picking up the signs.
#arcane#arcane act 3#arcane spoilers#arcane steb#steb arcane#steb#maddie arcane#arcane maddie#maddie nolen#caitlyn kiramman#arcane caitlyn#caitlyn arcane#the haters were right#maddie was in fact a spy#steb and caitlyn bond over the guilt of not picking up the signs#this post is mostly about steb tho#mainly cause i know for a fact that no one else will yap about him#i need more people to yap about him with me#i love him sm#steb my beloved#the only one out of the three new characters to live#rip loris and maddie#steb cant relate
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Cameras đȘ
Yandere!Han x Reader
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Warnings: YANDERE, violence, toxic behavior, manipulation, spying, 18+
ââââââââââââââââ âą
You sit at your desk, staring down at the open notebook, your fingers tracing its edges, but your mind is somewhere else. The house is quiet, a little too quiet, and that familiar, uneasy feeling creeps over you again. Lately, itâs like someoneâs been watching you, even when youâre sure youâre alone.
You try to shake it off, just like youâve done every other time, telling yourself itâs nothing. But deep down, you know itâs not just paranoia. The little things have been adding up. Your stuff is always out of place, your jewelry box lid half open, a photo frame slightly crooked. And Han⊠well, you had mentioned it to him once, but he brushed it off.
"You're stressed, Y/N," he had said with that charming smile. "You need to relax."
That smile you love. Now it just feels off.
Your eyes drift to your bedside lamp. Something flashes, just for a second, but you see it. You sit up, heart skipping a beat as you reach for the lamp. Unscrewing the lampshade, you freeze when you see it. A tiny, blinking red light. A camera.
What the hell??
Your pulse quickens as you stare at the small device in your hand. Why is there a camera here? Who put it here?
But you already know. You just donât want to believe it.
Your breath comes in short gasps as you tear through your room. Behind the framed pictures, inside the air vents, even inside your stuffed bear. More cameras. Everywhere.
You feel sick. How long has this been happening? How much has Han seen?
Without thinking, you grab your phone and dial Han. The anger in your voice barely masks the fear. âHan, we need to talk. Now.â
It doesnât take him long to show up. His face is full of concernâor is it something darker? You canât tell anymore.
âWhatâs going on?â he asks, stepping inside like nothingâs wrong. Like he hasnât been invading every second of your life.
You hold up the camera, your hand trembling. âWhy are there cameras in my room?â
For a split second, something flickers in his eyes. And then, just like that, his mask drops. The concern fades, and whatâs left makes your stomach twist.
âI did it to protect you,â he says softly, stepping closer. âYou donât understand. I need to know youâre safe.â
Your breath hitches in your throat. You want to scream, to cry, but all that comes out is cold, hard disbelief. "This isnât protection, Han. This is control."
His eyes darken, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You donât get to walk away from me."
Your body tenses as he steps closer, too close. His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist before you can react. Pain surges through your arm as his grip tightens.
âYouâre mine, Y/N,â he growls, his breath hot against your face. âNo one else will take care of you like I do. You donât get to leave me.â
A wave of panic crashes over you, but underneath it, anger is building. You twist your wrist, trying to pull free, but his grip only tightens. The pressure makes your vision blur with tears.
âNo, HanâŠâ Your voice trembling with fury. âY-youâre sick!â
Without thinking, you drive your knee up into his stomach, hard.
He lets out a grunt, doubling over just enough for you to yank your arm free. You stumble back, heart pounding, adrenaline flooding your system. But then Han straightens, his face twisting with rage.
Before you can react, his hand swings out, slapping you across the cheek. Pain stinging in your face, knocking you off balance. You crash into the dresser, books and other nicknacks scattering to the floor. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you whimpered a bit in pain.
Heâs standing over you now, breathing heavily, his fists clenched, but then something shifts in his expression. His eyes soften, a flicker of regret passing over his face as he takes in your terrified look.
âBaby, Iâm sorry!â Han pleads, his voice breaking. âDonât cry, please! I-I didnât mean to hurt you!â
The room spins as you force yourself up, your legs trembling beneath you. Your hand brushes against the dresser, and you grab the nearest thing, a heavy lamp. Without a second thought, you throw it at him.
It misses, crashing into the wall behind him, but Han still flinches, staggering back as he dodges. His eyes widen, and for a moment, you see hurt flicker there.
âY/N? W-why are you trying to hurt me?â His voice trembles, and you pause, your heart pounding in your chest.
âYouâre the one getting violent!â you shout, the words tearing from your throat.
For a split second, he looks like heâs about to cry, and something inside you twists painfully. He just stands there, staring at you with those sad, broken eyes, making your heart ache.
Heâs manipulating you. You know it, you *know* it, but that pang of guilt creeps in anyway. You have to shake it off.
âStop it, Han. Itâs not working. Not this time.â
As soon as the words leave your mouth, the softness drains from his face. The mask drops, revealing the cold, eerie calm underneath.
âY/NâŠâ he says, his voice unnervingly steady. âYou know I love you. Everything I do is because I love you.â He takes a step closer, his eyes darkening. âAnd Iâll do anything for you.â
Hanâs words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. His eerie calm sends a chill down your spine, but your legs wonât move. His eyes bore into yours, dark and unwavering, and you realize with a sickening jolt that thereâs no reasoning with him. Heâs beyond that now.
You back up slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. âHan⊠stay away from me.â
But he doesnât listen. Instead, he takes another step toward you, his voice lowering into something soft, almost tender. âIâm the only one who can protect you, Y/N. Donât you see? No one else will love you the way I do.â
You feel the wall press against your back, cold and unyielding. Thereâs nowhere else to go.
âPlease, Han,â you whisper, your voice trembling. âDonât do this.â
For a moment, his face softens again, but you know itâs a lie, just like before. He closes the distance between you in two long strides, grabbing your arms and pinning you against the wall. His grip is bruising, his breath hot and uneven as he leans in, his eyes glinting with something dangerous.
âWhy canât you just be mine?â he whispers harshly, his fingers digging into your skin. âWhy do you have to make this so hard?â
Panic surges through you, but your body feels frozen. You struggle against his hold, but heâs too strong. His hands move to your throat, not tightening, but just enough to make you realize how helpless you are in that moment.
Your vision blurs with tears as you gasp for air, your body trembling under his hold. This is it, you think. Itâs the end. You close your eyes in defeat, bracing for the inevitable as his hands apply light pressure to your throat.
But then, just as quickly as it started, the pressure eases. You blink in confusion, feeling his grip loosen. When you open your eyes, Hanâs expression has changed⊠his face etched with guilt, sadness pooling in his eyes.
âBabyâŠâ he whispers softly, his hands still hovering at your throat, but no longer squeezing.
Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch him look down at his own hands, as if seeing them for the first time. Tears start to roll down his cheeks, silent and slow, before he suddenly pulls you into a tight embrace.
âI-Iâm sorryâŠâ he sobs, his voice breaking.
His arms wrap around you, almost crushing you against him, and the sudden shift feels jarring. You can hear him weeping, his breath catching between sobs. The warmth of his body, the way he clings to you, it's so different from the rage that had consumed him moments ago.
You stand frozen, your body still shaking, unsure of what to do. Was this another trick? Another way to manipulate you, to pull you back into his control? Or⊠was he actually genuine this time?
It was hard to tell, and that terrified you the most...
#kpop#kpop x reader#fanfic#kpop imagines#stray kids#skz x reader#stray kids x poc reader#stray kids yandere#yandere skz#skz yandere#skz han jisung#yandere han#yandere han jisung#stray kids han#kpop yandere#yandere stray kids#stray kids angst#han jisung x poc reader
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Hi Awkward! Love your writing.
Could I request the mercs running into reader having a panic attack after they experienced respawn for the first time?
Only doing 3 at a time but Iâll do more later!
Medic, Spy, Sniper
Medic
He saw you die. Not a big deal, thatâs what the respawn was for.
Only you didnât, which made him slightly worried, only slightly for now, because maybe heâs just coincidentally away from the parts of the map you are, and he doesnât have time to look for you because the others needed him.
It was only when a shockingly quiet Soldier came up to him
âMedic⊠You are needed in the respawn room!â
Definitely a little strange, but he stepped away from the battle.
He was not expecting to see you still there, cuz how long had it been since you died? 5 minutes?
But the biggest shock to him was your state, trembling, softly crying, and shoved into a corner.
He springs into action immediately. Crouching down next to you, but not touching you in case you needed space.
âLiebling, are jou okayâŠâ
Heâs so worried about you.
Just wants to make sure youâre okay, so at that moment, youâre his top priority.
Will hug and cuddle you at the moment, and give dirty glares to anyone who stares.
Helps you get used to respawning by going through it a few times with you.
Spy
Immediately notices when you take a little to long to come out of respawn.
He was always keeping an eye out for you because he knew you werenât used to dying and respawning yet.
Its lets him be able to find you before the panic attack progresses too much.
Holds you and traces shapes on your back until you calm down.
âItâs okay, Mon Cheriâ
May slightly grimace if you get snot or wet his suit, but heâll just get it cleaned later.
Leads you to a quiet, private spot, away from prying eyes so you donât feel judged ** COUGH COUGH ** SCOUT ** COUGH COUGH **
Will definitely keep an eye on you for a few more battles, until youâre able to pop right out of the respawn with no problems.
Sniper
Respawned shortly after you due to you both being blown up due to a cleverly placed sticky bomb.
You were already panicking by then. I mean, you just came back to life, still feeling the slight sting of the bomb as all your organs began working again.
Knows exactly what to do because I said so and I headcannon he had anxiety as a child.
After heâs gotten you to calm down a little, he offers to bring you up to that one high point that we saw in Meet The Sniper.
Quiet little area where itâll be just you and him in as quiet as a place as he can be with you, while still being able to do his job.
I also headcannon that that place is his own equivalent of engineers workshop.
Rubs your back softly if you get the nauseous kind of anxiety.
If he does die heâs giving Scout competition with how fast he runs back there.
Refuses to leave you all by yourself.
Oh Lordy Lord Iâm so back. Sorry if some are shorter than others! Drink water! Thatâs right, I know you havenât been drinking your water. DRINK IT.
#tf2#team fortress 2#tf2 x reader#team fortress two#team fortress 2 x reader#tf2 medic#medic tf2#medic team fortress 2#medic tf2 x reader#writers on tumblr#tf2 sniper x reader#sniper x reader#tf2 medic x reader#tf2 spy#spy tf2#tf2 spy x reader#spy x reader
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